


The Tale of the Formerly Respectable Hobbit

by Hien



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Friendship, Happy Ending, M/M, Overbearing Nephews, Post-Battle of Five Armies, Rebuilding Erebor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 17:20:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 40,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6865936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hien/pseuds/Hien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo was a well-known, respectable Hobbit...but then he went on an adventure with Dwarves!<br/>This is the tale of how he came to embrace his lack of Hobbit respectability - and gained a family along the way.<br/>And headaches.<br/>Don't forget the headaches.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: "The Hobbit" is not mine, nor am I making any profit out of this fanfiction, beyond my simple amusement - and hopefully, yours!  
> This was previously posted on my ff.net account, my pen-name over there is "Renn".  
> Enjoy :)

* * *

Bilbo was not a naïve hobbitling.

Or at the very least, he liked to think that he wasn't.

He'd always known that there really was nothing glorious about battles or war – although many would argue that Hobbits don't actually _know_ anything about battles or war. He'd read and heard many a song and tale but he very well realized that pain and blood and death were _anything but_ glorious.

During battle the sound of clashing weapons coming down on shield, armor, flesh and bone assaulted your ears from all sides, never letting up, leaving your head ringing so loudly you ended up forgetting what silence was actually _like_. While in battle death was everywhere, and its stench never let you forget it. You could die at any time and no one would know – _your comrades_ could die at any time, maybe right under your eyes, or so faraway you might not find out until much later, or maybe you'd even die before finding out – and that would be a small mercy, he figured. While in battle terror was omnipresent, a dread so fierce it made you want to both cower in fear and charge forward without any thoughts for your safety – and _war_ …well war essentially managed to make you believe that your safety was forfeit right from the start. Maybe he hadn't actually known all of this in so much detail before (and now he really wished he'd never learnt), but he'd certainly never believed it wasn't a fully horrid experience on every level.

Around him Men and Elves and Dwarves had fought and fallen while Orc and Troll and Goblin corpses littered the ground and he'd known for certain: there was _nothing_ glorious about that. Those bards and storytellers who claimed otherwise were nothing but liars who spun their pretty tales so the young and foolish would not automatically desert their masters when there was a call for arms.

Bilbo had seen enough to last him a lifetime and more by the time he'd been knocked unconscious. As his eyes fluttered open much later, for a brief blissful second he failed to recall what had happened, but that was over all too soon, and he remembered. Even as he was informed of their victory there was a foul taste in his mouth and the pungent smell in their air was enough to make him retch because no song or tale had ever mentioned what happened after the fighting was over when corpses covered the battlefield and had to be removed. Some were so badly mangled or simply covered in so much grime and blood that it was not immediately possible to tell those who were still among the living from those who had crossed to the halls of their forefathers – or would shortly do so. He himself wasn't exactly clean either, although he would take goblin blood over troll snot any day – he'd tried to make himself forget about that unfortunate incident, but alas, so far, no such luck! (It probably did not help that Fíli and Kíli had kept reminding him of it every chance they had, _lovely_ lads that they were.)

Bilbo looked around himself as he followed a soldier of Lake-town down to the camp in the valley, and he was not ashamed at the thought that he was glad he had not had to witness any more of war's horrors – and was that a pile of _intestines_? Wriggling his nose in disgust and holding his breath, he resolved himself to do his very best not to let hope gain complete hold of him just because so far he had not recognized any of the bodies he'd walked by. He would only allow himself to let out a breath in relief after having seen his friends with his own eyes and made sure they were alright.

He could only hope that Fíli and Kíli had not let their recklessness and eagerness and youth get the better of them, because Erebor would need _cheer_. That Ori was safe and that Dori and Nori had not taken unnecessary risks to keep their younger brother alive. That Bombur was thinking of preparing their next meal and not in mourning, and Bifur hadn't received another life-changing wound, and Bofur still had the strength to smile, because they'd _need_ that – _he'd_ need that. That Óin was healthy enough to heal others, and Glóin still raring, because he had a family to go back to and he had to go back to them, they'd _won_ , so he _had_ to. That Balin had not lived through so many battles and hardships and _losses_ only to pass when they'd _done it_ , when they'd reclaimed their home, even if he trusted that Dwalin might have kept him safe, because if anyone could keep their brother and themselves safe on the battlefield, then it would be Dwalin – Bilbo had half a mind to believe that the warrior could actually _scare_ death away. And that Thorin…that Thorin…that he…Bilbo shook his head at that, refusing to allow even a sliver of a doubt to settle. Thorin _had_ to live, because he was _Thorin_ and Bilbo thought he was entitled to hit him for his behavior (although he was very much aware he most likely didn't have the physical strength to make the dwarf even flinch) and Erebor needed him and his people needed him and the Company needed him and _he_ —

Bilbo snapped out of his thoughts as the man he was following came to an abrupt stop and he walked straight into his legs – and really, who even needed legs that long? The soldier wordlessly reached out to steady him and then pointed towards the tent in front of them. Bilbo's eyes widened as he saw Gandalf sitting by a barrel outside of it, his arm in a sling – and this did inspire fear in the hobbit, because if even the great wizard was wounded, what were the odds that his dwarvish friends had come out of this madness unscathed? Even through his haze, he opened his mouth to ask precisely this question but the old man interrupted him.

"There will be time to answer all your questions, my friend, but for now let us make haste – you are called for," Gandalf said enigmatically as he gestured towards the tent behind them and pulled at the flaps with his good arm.

Bilbo followed him with a frown and let out the day's first sigh of relief as he spotted Dwalin stoutly standing to the side of the entrance, and Óin further in. He opened his mouth to communicate his happiness at seeing them well – he could spot a few bandages here and there, but the warrior looked as he always did and the healer was moving around freely with the same practiced purpose he always exhibited – but all words died in his throat as he saw _who_ said healer was tending to. "Thorin…" he whispered.

He hadn't spoken loudly, but the tent's occupants noticed him and turned to him with a coordination that would have been comical under less dire circumstances, but not now – not when—"Are you alright? Is he alright?" he asked, first talking to Thorin then Óin, figuring the King – because he was the King now, right? – would insist he was alright even on his deathbed. Bilbo tensed at that thought and the words were out of his mouth before he could place a filter on them. "You're not on your deathbed are you? He's not, is he? Right?" he once more asked one and then the other.

Gandalf made a sound that was much like a chuckle that turned into a snort but remained otherwise silent. Dwalin on the other hand openly snorted. Óin visibly hadn't heard him well enough – it would have been quite surprising indeed for his trumpet to survive the battle after all – and gestured for him to come closer before returning to grinding a thick paste together in one of his bowls.

"Sorry to disappoint," Thorin rasped with a tired smile pulling at his lips as he looked up at the hobbit.

Bilbo frowned and made a little shocked noise of indignation at the suggestion that he'd welcome his death. "Thorin, I would _never_ —"

"Peace, Master Baggins, I said this in good humor, although I would deserve any ill will you would bear me," the dwarf interrupted him, voice full of authority despite its weakness – and the tiniest measure of amusement, surprisingly.

Bilbo just swallowed back his protest, his eyes taking in the dwarf's appearance. Blood and dirt covered his hair and much of his skin, but while there were bandages around his chest and down his arms, for the time being they looked clean, and not bloody, so that had to be a good sign – right?

"Master Óin believes I am no longer on death's doorsteps, but should fate decide otherwise I would make peace with you so that we might part in friendship, and take back my words and deeds at the gate," the King under the Mountain said in earnest as he looked into his eyes.

Bilbo didn't look away as he held his gaze, noting with no small amount of satisfaction that Thorin's eyes were no longer clouded by that nasty magic that had caused him to go mad. "Are you…really going to make it?" he found himself asking quietly, never minding that he realized this was a terribly insensitive question to ask someone when they laid in a healer's tent. "You'll live?"

"With the city reclaimed and the battle won? Now would be a poor time to die indeed," was the amused reply he received.

Bilbo let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding, and in concert with that, his heart resumed its normal rhythm – and he didn't remember it quickening before either. Thorin would live. Thorin would _live_. The relief mixed with his resentment and washed through him, so powerful that it threatened to sap all strength from his legs and for a second he did think they were going to give out on him.

Óin chose that moment to apply his latest concoction on the hobbit's forehead, right where he'd been struck and he loudly communicated the pain he felt at the sudden rough fondling of his open wound. "A little warning next time?" he asked irritably although he didn't step away. That thing hurt even worse than it smelled and absently he wondered if he'd ever be able to get it out of his hair, but by then he knew to trust Óin's skills. The healer ignored him in favor of quickly and efficiently wrapping a strip of cloth around his head, with a seeming fervor to ensure the paste would have no way to go but deeper into his body – his _wounded_ body. "Alright, thank you Óin, I'm good," Bilbo insisted as he winced one last time before looking back into Thorin's eyes – and feeling slightly peeved as he saw some barely concealed laughter there. "Well if you're really on the road to recovery, then apology accepted – but that doesn't mean I forgive you yet," he quickly warned him frankly as he pointed a finger at him – internally, he lamented that the bandage wrapped around his head probably made him even _less_ intimidating, but he held onto his pride nonetheless and stood straight to be as tall as he could. Four pairs of eyes widened and locked on him at this (he could feel Dwalin and Gandalf's gazes on his back) but he refused to be deterred. "But that is a discussion for another day. You should rest now," he said instead. His conscience wouldn't let him fight with a wounded man.

Thorin's eyes narrowed pensively and he looked deep in thoughts for a moment, obviously trying to understand him – and failing, so far. "Then let us continue this conversation later," he finally agreed, sounding tired and defeated.

Bilbo nodded at him and fidgeted on his feet for a moment before snapping out of it. "Right. Stay well," he said for lack of anything better to say as he turned to leave, noting Dwalin's barely-there smirk (the warrior didn't like people to know when he thought they were funny, like it would make him less intimidating – _as if_!). He then also very determinedly tried to ignore Gandalf's amused expression, but the wizard made it impossible to do when he followed him outside. He was about to snap an annoyed retort when something else occurred to him. "The others? How are they?" he asked him anxiously.

"Alive, my dear Bilbo, alive," Gandalf reassured him instantly. "With injuries ranking from broken fingers to bruised ribs with a broken jaw to account for, not to forget cuts and bruises, and a great chance of alcoholic overindulgence tonight, but alive," he recounted.

"Broken jaw? That sounds rather painful – I dare say more so than broken fingers…who is the unfortunate victim?" Bilbo asked more to keep himself awake than anything – while he had in effect been unconscious for a long time, he felt dizzy and ready to sleep the next week away; he suspected Óin's ointment was not unrelated to this and stifled a wide yawn.

"Young Kíli, I believe," the wizard replied after a moment's reflection. He then stopped and pointed his staff towards a tent. "But you need to rest, my friend. More talks and explorations can wait for a new day," he said warmly before taking his leave.

"Poor Kíli, he has such a hard time staying quiet…" Bilbo thought out loud as he watched him go and yawned once more before turning to push aside the tent's flaps. No sooner had he stepped inside that he was attacked – yes, _attacked_ , as there was no other way to describe the tackle that brought him to the floor, effectively kicking out all air from his lungs. So much for surviving the battle! Opening his eyes with much effort, he breathed out in relief as Bofur wiggled his eyebrows down at him. "Heavy…" he mumbled sleepily.

Bofur laughed loudly at this before helping him up and steering him towards an empty cot. "We were worried sick about you, Bilbo!" he said easily with a wide grin as he walked back to plop down onto his own cot.

The hobbit smiled back automatically, blinking his eyes a few times and shaking his head to dissipate the torpor as he gazed from Bofur to Bifur and Bombur – the latter being fast asleep and snoring loudly as he was so prone to. "So was I about the lot of you – I'm relieved to see you're alright, truly," he assured them earnestly.

Bofur's expression softened as he too glanced at his brother and cousin. "Aye, we're alright…" he repeated, as though he were reassuring himself.

Bifur said something in Khuzdûl and pointed at Bilbo emphatically.

"Am I hurt?" Bilbo tried to interpret, giving a quick tired smile as the other dwarf nodded heartily. "Just a nasty bump – Óin already rubbed an equally nasty and smelly _something_ on it," he assured them with a grimace as his hand automatically went to touch the bandage, fingers idly toying with a loose thread on the fabric. "How about you?" he then asked sleepily, genuinely interested in their well-being but finding it increasingly difficult to keep his eyes opened.

"Cuts and bruises, mostly," Bofur reassured him for the three of them. "Luckily for us, this whole case turned out to be more scary than painful in the end! Although I did see this poor Man from Lake-town with an arrow sticking out of his foot – that has to hurt!" He thought to continue entertaining his friend with tales of horrible battle scars, but the burglar was fast asleep. "Well he's got the right idea, I reckon…" he muttered to himself as he leaned back down as well. "What a day…"

And to think that they were only getting started…

0o0o0

Bilbo woke up the next morning to two very excited faces looming above his. Unflinching, he simply blinked the sleep out of his eyes a few times. "Fíli. Kíli," he greeted around a yawn – and honestly, how sad was it that they'd gotten him used to waking up to their hovering to the point that he wasn't even momentarily shocked anymore? The brothers visibly shared the same trail of thoughts as they looked at each other quickly in disappointment – no doubt they missed the good old days when waking their burglar up like this had had him jumping up while making the most amusing frightened yelp. Goblin mongrels.

"Is it true?" Fíli then asked with a raised eyebrow, while Kíli tried to pull off a grin that didn't hurt his face too much – and it was the single most pathetic thing Bilbo had ever seen: Kíli of all people was meant to _smile_ , not have this sick purple color all around his jaw! Without thinking, Bilbo reached out a hand to pat the younger prince's head comfortingly, smiling absently at his grateful expression.

Fíli's words then computed. "Is _what_ true, Fíli?" he asked the older prince with a frown.

"That you chewed out Uncle!" was the excited reply, his brother nodding enthusiastically next to him.

"Beg your pardon – I did _what_?" the hobbit asked indignantly as he sat up, looking around for the first time. The light was clear, and he felt rested enough that he was sure he'd slept the day away. Absently, his stomach rumbled so he knew he'd missed a few meals – _again_. Bofur and Bifur were away, but Bombur was looking at them as though they were his snack-time entertainment – or luncheon maybe? – as he cleared a plate of rabbit stew – and Bilbo idly wondered if there was any left. "What did you hear?" he reluctantly asked the princes in the best authoritative tone he could muster, because he did not need rumors to spin out of control – his head already hurt enough as it was, thank you very much.

"Well Óin told Glóin who told Nori who told Dori and Ori who told Bifur who told Bombur who told Bofur who told Kíli and I that Uncle apologized to you and you refused him," Fíli diligently replied before frowning as his brother shook his head. "What is it?" Kíli made a few gestures, and the blond dwarf tapped his hand to his forehead. "You're right Kíli, of course – I got this all wrong!" he mused as he turned back to Bilbo.

"Yes, indeed, I think so," the Burglar-Hobbit readily agreed, purposefully not mentioning how ridiculous it was that they were listening to gossip gleaned by the hard-of-hearing member of their group in the first place.

"Bofur was _also_ there when Nori told Dori and Ori and he subsequently told us," Fíli clarified. "I knew that didn't sound right."

Bilbo just stared at the princes – the smug-looking princes – not for the first time at a complete loss as to what to say. Because indeed 'who told who' was obviously the important bit here, not the simple truth that the rumor was completely wrong in the first place. Right! They were _older_ than him for mercy's sake! Never mind that Dwarves lived longer and were therefore considered adults later, how had Fíli and Kíli survived for so long when they obviously didn't have a lick of sense in their heads, the lovable goofs?

"Actually," Bombur interjected as he looked at his rabbit meat pensively, "I think it was _Dori_ who told Nori, not the other way around."

"Was it now?" Fíli wondered with a frown.

Kíli shrugged and pointed to Bombur questioningly.

"Bifur told _me_ though, you got that part right," the rotund dwarf offered kindly. "I did tell Bofur, but by then he'd already heard about it!"

"I think I _really_ hit my head too hard…" Bilbo muttered as he moved a hand to tentatively rub at his aching forehead, eyes widening as he noted the fabric was different.

Kíli noticed his look and tapped his own chest proudly.

"Kíli and I changed your bandage while you were sleeping," Fíli rendered with a warm smile. "And we were worried you'd never wake up, what with sleeping through _that_!"

"Thank you…" Bilbo replied, strangely touched and suddenly overcome with a rush of affection for their resident troublemakers.

Of course Fíli had to ruin the moment by opening his big mouth. "So is it true?" he asked once more, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

Bilbo did not give them the satisfaction of groaning nor sighing nor sputtering. "In a sense – although I get the distinct impression that the story got warped through word of mouth. Thorin did apologize and I accepted his apology," he clarified. "However, I have not yet forgiven him, and have advised him we would not speak of this until he was well again."

All three dwarves looked at him with the utmost seriousness. "So…you've accepted his apology," Fíli began slowly.

"But you haven't forgiven him?" Bombur finished, and he'd even _paused_ in his eating, confused as he was.

Kíli raised his hands in a helpless shrug as he shook his head in disbelief, nudging his brother with his elbow.

"It doesn't make any sense," Fíli dutifully relayed.

"Of course it makes sense," the hobbit replied as he crossed his arms over his chest. "It makes perfect sense!"

"Mmh-mmh," Kíli insisted as he shook his head.

"Yes it—oh forget it, I am not letting myself get drawn into a pointless childish game of yes-no with you two," Bilbo declared as he raised an eyebrow. "And I do believe that is none of your business – this is between your Uncle and me," he reminded them coolly.

Kíli snorted at that and Bilbo realized he didn't need to be able to speak to be an insufferable brat.

"But you _will_ sort it, right?" Fíli asked him with a worried look – and for some reason he suddenly looked much older.

"I wouldn't dream of leaving with things unresolved, Fíli," the hobbit assured him earnestly as he placed a hand on his shoulder, hoping to calm him.

It would figure that it had the opposite effect on both young dwarves.

" _Eavin'_?!" Kíli gasped in outrage before letting out a groan as he cradled his jaw in pain. His brother and the burglar immediately checked for themselves that he hadn't re-dislocated his jaw but as Bilbo pulled back he grabbed his wrist and gave him the most accusing wide-eyed look he could muster – and he was _good_ , he knew it. He sent Fíli a meaningful glance and shrug of the head before turning back to his shamelessly manipulative scheme.

"Why are you talking about leaving, Bilbo?" Fíli asked with a genuinely sad expression before going in for the kill. "Do you want to leave us?"

Bilbo was smart enough to realize that he was being played, but he'd long ago accepted that he was not strong enough to be impervious to it. The sons of the line of Durin obviously held a strange sway over him. "No, of course not, I don't _want_ to leave you – _any of you_ – but the quest is fulfilled now, and one day I must go back to the Shire," he said reasonably, resisting the urge to pat both their heads reassuringly because he would not give them the satisfaction of knowing they were that good _and_ _they were both older than him_!

" _Why_?" Kíli asked with fiery determination in his eyes.

"Wh—because it's _home_. And you shouldn't talk, Kíli," Bilbo quickly added as he frowned worriedly. The rigid set of the dwarf's shoulders told him he wasn't happy with his trying to change the subject – which he _wasn't_ , truly, he was genuinely worried!

"We could make Erebor your home," Fíli offered softly, quickly raising a hand to cut off anything he might have said in protest. "Please think about it. We fully realize it's a selfish wish, and a hypocritical one at that when you've just helped us regain our own home, so we should well understand your position. But please promise us you'll at least think about it?" he asked him in a levelled voice, his clear blue eyes holding him in place.

Bilbo thought to himself that he would be a grand king one day. "Fíli—"

"Promise us," the prince repeated.

"I promise," Bilbo finally replied with a slow nod, unused to sharing such a serious moment with the two brothers. He didn't get to say more as a plate of food was handed to him, and he looked up at a smiling Bombur. "Thank you," he replied with a smile, surprised but touched.

"People shouldn't have such serious discussions on an empty stomach," Bombur replied simply as he eyed the two princes in amusement – and slight reproach.

They at least had the decency to look down sheepishly – for all of a minute.

But Bilbo wouldn't have them any other way. Inwardly, he wasn't certain why they were so upset over this, as though it was entirely unexpected – he hadn't said that he'd be leaving in the coming days after all, just in the near future – _eventually_. 'Home' had always been the promise and goal of this quest, for each and every one of them, even if their situations were not the same. He wondered, when had Fíli and Kíli started to include him in their vision of it? And why did it please him so ridiculously much? Especially when he wasn't even sure if it would be possible: he was a Hobbit, what place could there be for him Under the Mountain with Dwarves?

Not that he was _lonely_ in the Shire; he had relatives, and acquaintances…just not…friends he had really connected with as he had with the Dwarves of Erebor. Would it break his heart to leave the Company behind and return to his quiet solitary days in Bag End? _Yes, of course_. Was that enough of a reason to consider staying? To consider leaving the Shire behind for good, uprooting his life and leaving behind everything he'd ever known for a never-ending adventure?

Bofur and Bifur returned to the tent with their own food at this moment, loudly greeting them all and equally as loudly teasing Kíli for not being able to talk back. Bilbo chuckled fondly as the dark-haired prince just stole the toymaker's food in response, laughter becoming even louder at the wild chase that ensued. He didn't have to think at all about whether it would be worth it.

_Yes, of course it would_.

Maybe. Possibly. He'd need to really think about – he'd promised Fíli he would, and he intended to keep his word. Besides, he'd best not get ahead of himself – to be welcomed to stay in the kingdom of Erebor, he'd need the King's approval, after all. And he wasn't yet certain what his standing would be in that regard once all would be said and done with Thorin.

Because despite his enormous well of affection for Fíli and Kíli, his strong friendship with Bofur and Balin, his mutual avoidance deal with Dwalin that belied a grudging mutual respect, his amusement at Bifur and Nori's antics, his shared love of food with Bombur, his shared love of books with Ori and his excellent rapport with Glóin, Óin and Dori, if Thorin didn't want him there then he wouldn't stay – and he didn't mean that with any melodramatic flair. This was Thorin's home, and even if his nephews could probably get on his nerves enough that he'd permit Bilbo to stay (if only to have peace), Bilbo wouldn't want to if that was the only reason. Not that he was expecting a formal invitation or open arms (not that he'd be _complaining_ about either one of those, in all honesty), but he would not settle for a grunt of approbation given in passing.

0o0o0

The next day, Bilbo woke up in a daze and saw the world through a veil of pain as his head throbbed like it never had before, even when he'd received the blow. He drifted in and out of consciousness for the better part of the day and the night, sometimes dimly aware of smelling foul medication, hearing far-off voices, or feeling cool damp cloths pressed to his face. When his fever had finally come down yet another day later, every muscle in his body ached and his mouth tasted like cotton but he wanted nothing more than to escape his cot and breathe fresh air, no matter how cold it was outside. Kíli barely ever left his side, as he and Fíli felt guilty, having somehow figured that his worsening condition had been caused by their pestering. Bilbo had refrained from saying out loud that it was both the silliest and most heartwarming thing he'd ever heard and had just assured them that he was alright, but the archer would have none of it. Fíli was helping Thorin, Balin and Dáin in settling official disputes and organizing Erebor's reconstruction, and in light of his injuries Kíli was encouraged to rest some more, so he in turn decided to spend that time keeping himself busy by making sure their Hobbit would be alright. Bilbo didn't _really_ mind, besides they communicated surprisingly well with gestures, even without Fíli there to play interpreter.

"How have the people of Lake-town been holding up?" Bilbo asked curiously as he looked at the people milling about Dale's vestiges' ramparts.

Kíli held a hand palm down and turned it up and down in the universal 'so-so' gesture before raising his hands to rub his arms and faking a chill.

"Yes, winter is upon us," the hobbit mused as he looked at them with a frown, still feeling guilty they'd – _he'd_ – caused their suffering in the first place. "Is Bard still in charge?"

Kíli made a huffing sound that was clearly meant to say: _who else?_

"And the Elves?"

This time the prince sighed as he crossed his arms over his chest and looked away, his way of saying he wouldn't talk about that – not while he couldn't _talk_ , at any rate.

"Fine, be that way," Bilbo humored him before looking down at the camp as they'd reached the top of Ravenhill. "How long do you think it will be before we can move out of the encampment and completely into Erebor itself?" he wondered out loud.

Kíli pursed his lips as he thought about it. He finally held up four fingers.

"Four weeks?"

A nod. He then pointed towards the entrance and used his fingers to trace the general shape of a door before holding up one finger, turning to him to convey something with his eyes.

"One week for the door?" Bilbo tried.

"No," Kíli huffed, sighing in frustration. He pointed to the door again, and held up one finger, then pointed to the camp, and held two fingers.

"I get it! The priority is fixing the gate!" Bilbo replied excitedly. The smile he received in response was as good a reward as any. Looking back down at the valley, his eyes were drawn to Thorin's tent and he sighed. "How is Thorin?" he found himself asking before he could think about it.

Kíli followed his gaze, as if the dwarf in question would just walk out in plain sight as though summoned, and gently tapped his hand to his heart in a gesture that could mean so many things, but that Bilbo interpreted to mean 'he'll be alright because we're Durin's folk and he's _Thorin'_. He then nudged his companion and mimicked a discussion with his hands, raising an eyebrow in silent question.

"I'm not running away from talking to him, Kíli," the hobbit assured him, correctly understanding him – _somehow_. "I didn't exactly stay in bed those past days by _choice_. Besides, we really should clear the air before moving the camp to the mountain," he added absently. The look of pure panic the dark-haired dwarf sent him at this made him chuckle and shake his head fondly. "I'm not saying this because I'm counting the minutes until I'm away from here, relax! I gave you and Fíli my word I'll seriously think about it and I _will_ ," he assured him. "As things stand right now, I'd be hard pressed to make it back to the Shire without getting caught in a snowstorm at any rate, and I really don't fancy that," he added more quietly. "One crazy journey was enough for me."

Kíli surveyed him critically, gradually relaxing his posture and nodding though still not entirely convinced.

"Come on, let's go see if we can grab some soup – it's getting colder and I've missed enough meals as it is!" Bilbo attempted to bribe him shamelessly to draw a smile – and smiled widely himself when it worked. Kíli wasn't supposed to eat foods that took much chewing, so soups and mashed meals were his lot, but apparently only Fíli and Bilbo were nice enough not to indulge in hearty _meaty_ meals in front of him. He'd never minded soup anyway, so skipping on roast was a small price to pay to lift his friend's spirits.

Nori and Glóin shortly joined them, the latter in a particularly good mood as he'd apparently received a raven from the Blue Mountains with the news that his wife and son were among those who'd volunteered to join the first of many caravans to Erebor, and would be arriving with spring if there were no unforeseen delays. Kíli excused himself at this, miming work to be done and gently patting Bilbo's shoulder before retreating – though he suspected it was only to avoid Glóin's thousandth retelling of his wife's beauty and his son's bright future as he was so prone to.

Ori wandered by some time later, as though drawn by the food, and he looked a mix between excited and exhausted, devouring his plate faster than was usual. A casual inquiry on his day so far was enough to open the dam on his grievances though. Apparently while many were perfectly willing and even eager to assist in counting and cataloging the treasure hoard, no one was lining up to help him draw an internal map of the city. "I asked Nori to help me go from room to room, but he gets distracted as soon as he sees something that might be useful in bartering – even though I keep telling him he doesn't need to worry about things like that anymore!" the young dwarf exclaimed in exasperation at his brother's antics.

"You never know what's gonna happen! Best be prepared!" Nori defended himself with a huff.

"What about Dori?" Bilbo asked conversationally as he munched on a bit of bread – and put his teeth to good use too, he should have let it mellow in the soup as Kíli had.

"He's busy with other things in camp. I keep telling everyone we need to know what we're working with, but…well…map-making isn't Dwarves' strongest point…" he mused with a defeated sigh, looking down at his bowl as though it held all the answers or a miraculous solution.

"What kind of help do you need, exactly?" Bilbo asked him with a frown.

"We need to know which living quarters can still be lived in, and we also have to make sure that if their…previous owners have living relatives in the Blue Mountains or Iron Hills, then we don't assign them to anyone else…blood feuds have been known to be declared over less than that! Also if anything such as beddings, covers, candles or the like can be salvaged, that's always good to know. Everyone agrees that it's important, but still, no one's volunteering!" Ori explained with a frown before looking up at him with barely contained hope. "Would you…be willing to help?"

"I don't see why not – it sounds like something I can definitely help with, as opposed to lifting boulders and rebuilding doors and corridors," the hobbit replied easily. "Besides, it'll keep me busy."

"Oh thank you, Bilbo, thank you so much!" the other dwarf exclaimed with much more enthusiasm than the situation warranted as he grabbed his hand in both of his and shook it vigorously.

"Don't mention it, it's my pleasure," Bilbo assured him as he pulled his hand back before his arm could fall off.

"May I ask you something else?" Ori asked tentatively as he sat back down, fingers nervously toying with the ends of his scarf.

"Go ahead," Bilbo replied with a curious cock of his head.

Ori looked left and right to make sure nobody else was listening in and leaned closer to ask his question. "Is it true that you refused Thorin's apology?" he asked in awe. Nori actually looked up from where he sat on the other side of the fire and leaned closer in interest. Even Glóin angled himself towards them as he pretended to be greatly focused on cleaning his pipe.

Bilbo groaned and looked up to the sky wondering what he'd done to deserve this. "No, I just said that I haven't _forgiven_ him yet – and before you argue, _no_ , it's _not_ the same. And stop believing everything your brother says – both of them, actually," he replied tiredly, pointedly ignoring Nori's indignant protest. As he rubbed his face with his hands he noted that his friends looked _disappointed_ of all things. Letting out a deep sigh, he stood and excused himself to go get some rest, even if by this point he had an inkling his head would never stop hurting as long as he remained around Dwarves. But fate conspired against him, because he walked into Bard before he was even halfway to his tent. "Hello Bard, it's good to see you still in one piece," he greeted politely anyway – not that he wasn't genuinely happy to see the man was alright, naturally.

Bard chuckled ruefully and surveyed him critically. "The relief is mine, I assure you. I'd heard you had survived the battle, but still, the last time I'd seen you before that was not in the most reassuring of settings," he replied evenly as he raised an eyebrow.

Bilbo winced at that, his lips drawn in a thin line. "Yes. Well—not the highlight of my week, as you can imagine," he replied quietly.

"I was reassured to hear the King offered you an apology, although I believe you were well within your rights to refuse him," Bard continued with blunt honesty as he looked even more grim than usual. "Some actions cannot be forgiven in exchange of mere words."

Bilbo didn't even have the energy to open his eyes wide and could do little more than pinch the bridge of his nose tiredly. "For the love of—when I get my hands on Óin or whoever spread this rumor, I will _hurt_ them," he muttered, gentle nature long out the window.

The Dragon Slayer merely raised an eyebrow in amusement at this. "I take it the real event was somewhat warped?"

" _Somewhat_ ," the hobbit confirmed. "You could say that. I don't suppose there's a chance I could look for sanctuary in Dale, should I lose my temper and maim a Dwarf or two – or thirteen?" he asked the bowman half-seriously.

Bard chuckled at this, letting out an exaggerated sigh as he pretended to ponder it. "Are you including the King in this imaginary tally?" he wondered as he fingered his bowstring absently.

"Hmm. Good question," Bilbo conceded as he made a show of stroking his chin as though seriously considering it. "That remains to be seen, in all honesty. So what say you?"

"I smuggled you in once, I could most certainly smuggle you out if needed," Bard mused as he looked up from his bow, being done with his imaginary inspection of it. "Your current hardships stemmed from your desire to ensure peace for everyone, after all – I can't in good conscience turn my back on you now," he replied with a mock-bow. A glint in his eyes made it clear though that he meant these words, even if he'd said them teasingly.

"I'm just the right height to kick your shins and have it hurt _really badly_ , you know," the hobbit reminded the man darkly as he walked around him, ignoring his clear chuckle at his threats. He _had_ to speak to Thorin before he became universally known throughout the valley as The Burglar-Hobbit Who Refused The King's Apology. As catchy as that title sounded, he'd never wanted fame, and certainly not for something as unbecoming and _untrue_ as that!

Tomorrow. Today his head hurt too much and he just might end up actually maiming those Dwarves. Possibly even all thirteen of them.

When had his life become so complicated?

Oh. Right…when he'd decided to go on an _adventure_.

(…Best decision he'd ever made, but he'd wear _shoes_ before ever admitting to it out loud.)

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

Now that Thorin was actually the King Under the Mountain, getting a chance to talk to him had become a considerably harder feat to accomplish. There was just too much to do, too much for him to oversee, even if in all honesty, at the present time he was rather the King of the Valley Before the Mountain – much less catchy as far as titles went, yes, but correspondingly more accurate. Bilbo also inwardly wondered whether there was now a new protocol linked to his title. Was he allowed to just walk up to him or was he supposed to petition for an audience?

"Do we need to petition Thorin for an audience now?" he eventually voiced out loud as he sat outside their tent with Bofur.

The toymaker hummed in thought at that. "Not sure…probably so when Erebor is rebuilt and he sits on the throne…" he mused as he offered him his pipe.

Bilbo accepted it with a grateful nod – his own hadn't survived the battle, and he hadn't gotten around to finding a replacement yet. "But for now?" he asked as he puffed out some smoke.

"I reckon it should be fine – you're still our Burglar-Hobbit!" Bofur reminded him with a wide grin and a wink.

"You make me sound like a pet," the hobbit muttered indignantly as he handed him his pipe back. "Get your very own Burglar-Hobbit here – imported straight from the exotic distant Shire!" he mocked as he spread his arms wide as though gesturing to a crowd.

Bofur visibly didn't know when to quit ahead. "Well, in all fairness, you _are_ able to do quite a few nifty tricks!" he teased with a wiggle of his eyebrows. "Not to mention the kids love to play with you!" he added, nodding his head at Fíli and Kíli who were by a fire not far, engrossed in one of Glóin's battle stories.

Bilbo wasn't impressed and it showed on his face. "Keep that up and I promise you when they'll find your body they will be _puzzled_ as to how that pipe got where it did," he warned him evenly.

"I've always hoped for an interesting death," Bofur dismissed meditatively with a casual shrug, grin ever present as he offered him his pipe once more.

"No, thank you," Bilbo said with a shake of his head, smiling despite himself. Noticing Óin joining the group out of the corner of his eyes, he stood up to go to him. "Later," he said to his friend as he walked to the healer. "Good evening," he said loudly as he reached him.

"Evening lad," Óin replied as he brought his brand new trumpet to his ear. "How fares the melon?"

"Quite better, thank you," Bilbo replied with a grateful nod. "My limbs still feel a bit stiff but at least I can see clearly now."

"Good. You gave us quite the scare, you know?" Óin informed him reprovingly, his amused look betraying him and reminding him of Old Took.

"Sorry about that," the hobbit replied sheepishly as he raised a hand to the back of his head. "How is Thorin?" he then asked without preamble.

The healer sobered but nodded reassuringly. "Not getting all the rest he ought, but that was to be expected. Not to fear my lad – I very much doubt there will be a need for us to gather in mourning any time soon!"

"I'm glad to hear it," Bilbo assured him before taking his leave of him with a smile, making his way to the King's tent. Dwalin was standing guard as usual – it seemed he didn't trust even the Iron Foot Dwarves with this task. His bored glare was as potent as ever. "Dwalin," Bilbo greeted with a nod as he stopped before him. The only indication that he was acknowledged were the eyes that trailed down to settle on him. "Is Thorin in?" he asked, for lack of a better idea what to say.

"What do you think?" the warrior asked him with a huff, leaning on his axe as though to say 'why else would _I_ be here, standing in front of a stupid tent in this cold?'

"I wasn't asking whether he was _physically_ in," Bilbo defended himself with a frown as he crossed his arms over his chest, very much aware that it did not in fact make him look any more imposing to the dwarf. "That was my way of asking whether he has a moment for me or if he's in the middle of something."

"He's the King now – he's _always_ in the middle of something," Dwalin replied gruffly, but something in his eyes gave him away.

"You're just being difficult on purpose. And enjoying this," Bilbo accused him with narrowed eyes as he pointed a critical finger at him.

"Maybe," Dwalin drawled with a self-satisfied grin before shrugging his head back towards the tent. "Enter the Dragon's Lair at your own risk, Burglar," he goaded. " _Again_."

"You're too kind, Master Dwarf," the hobbit replied with a mock bow as he walked past him and into the tent. Dáin was nowhere to be seen and that was good because the Dwarvish Lord had this nasty habit of nearly bursting out laughing whenever he spotted him, obviously finding him hilarious for reasons that he never saw fit to share. Thorin and Balin looked up from an array of papers spread on a table as they noticed him, and he suddenly stopped in his steps, unsure of how to proceed from this point on because it did look as though maybe he _was_ interrupting something important.

"My, is that the time already?" Balin asked absently as he placed his hands on his belt. "I was indeed thinking that I was getting hungry. Let's continue this later with full bellies, shall we?" he asked his King – and really, it was amazing how he was basically ordering him around but making it sound and look the exact opposite. Thorin nodded at him and he smiled as he walked past Bilbo, pausing to rest a hand on his shoulder and trail a quick look on his bandaged head. "I'm happy to see you're feeling better, laddie," he said warmly.

"Thank you Balin," the hobbit replied with an easy smile as he pat his arm. He watched him go, hearing him exchange a few hushed words with his brother at the entrance, and then he turned back to Thorin to find himself staring into his very, _very_ blue eyes. "I hope I didn't interrupt something important," he started carefully, not actually sure what to say or how to say it now that he was there.

"Not to worry. I've been looking at these for so long at times I feel they no longer make any sense to me," Thorin finally replied as he gestured to the reports on his desk with a dismissive wave of the hand. Getting up, he walked to pour himself a cup of wine and wordlessly offered one to his visitor.

Bilbo accepted it with thanks, taking in Thorin's appearance and being finally reassured that he would be alright. He walked with a slight limp, but it hadn't impaired his overall bearing, and while he knew that underneath his tunic he was heavily bandaged, from the outside he looked the picture of health – he even felt jealous at that, because he knew he looked far worse for far smaller an injury. Shuddering at the spicy wine as it passed down his throat, he looked back up at the dwarf who hadn't returned to his seat but had rather remained standing next to him, and the hobbit found himself taking an unconscious step back at that. Thorin noticed but didn't comment on it, only looked down for a second.

"So…the word around the valley is that I refused your apology…" Bilbo started because after all, why not start with the beginning? (Wait… _was_ that the beginning?)

Thorin looked like he wanted to chuckle but caught himself at the last moment. "Is that what they say?" he asked instead.

"Yes," Bilbo drawled, unimpressed, as he raised an eyebrow, resisting the urge to tap his foot on the ground. "And it's creating far more adventurous a reputation than I care for, so let's clear that up. I did – _do_ – accept your apology. I _do_ believe that you weren't yourself when you…said and did what you…said and did," he said quietly.

"But…?" Thorin questioned more seriously as he still held his gaze.

" _But_ …forgiving and forgetting is harder," the hobbit confessed as he looked down at his wine with a sigh. And he was the first person to be displeased by this situation. Thorin had always intimidated him, yes, but he'd never _feared_ him! Because until that day on the wall at the gate, he'd never given him a reason to, and now it was impossible to forget.

"I do not wish to forget," Thorin replied, voice quieter than usual but no less confident. "And I do not expect you to do so, either. What I did was contemptible, and we – _I_ – am most fortunate that you are standing here and we are able to have this discussion at all. I would not be worthy to rule were it otherwise."

"We do need to have this talk…" Bilbo murmured in agreement as he finished the last of his wine with one gulp and set the cup down, only managing not to choke on it by sheer pride. "Alright, let's do it. Let's clear the air," he said as he turned back to the King. "You almost killed me!" he accused, because he may have been a nice and gentle (Burglar-)Hobbit, but that particular point was hard to ignore even for him.

"After you betrayed my trust and stole what was most precious to me," Thorin reminded him with a raised eyebrow, not raising his voice because he still felt ashamed of his actions, but not to the point of not at least trying to defend himself. "And gave it to the enemy!" he added unflinchingly.

"To prevent a stupid and pointless battle, yes! To protect _you_! And the others as well, of course," Bilbo stood his ground. "With the haze from the Dragon-sickness now gone, can you honestly tell me you do not see the reasoning behind my actions?" he wondered incredulously with a frown.

Thorin shook his head at that, not in response but in frustration, drawing back to cross his arms over his chest. "Why did you return to the mountain afterwards?" he asked instead.

"Because I owed it to you to be honest," Bilbo replied simply, as though it were obvious – and to him, it certainly _was_. "I knew you'd be angry but…" he trailed off at that, not finding it necessary to add any more.

"I was _beyond_ anger," Thorin recounted steadily as he looked down at his hand as though he could recall how it had felt to grip the stones of the gate that day, how it had felt to grab the front of the hobbit's shirt with every intention of tossing him over the wall. "The fact that it was _you_ who'd betrayed me was as painful as the act itself – perhaps maybe even more so," he admitted honestly.

This did kick the wind from Bilbo's sails, and he looked down at his feet at that. "It wasn't easy for me either you know – why else would I go back while knowing full well it wouldn't be safe?" he said thoughtfully. "But I think…I think that if I hadn't…that if I'd stayed away and not said a thing, we wouldn't be able to get past it," he added earnestly. "And I do believe that we _can_."

Thorin surveyed him critically, staying quiet for a moment. "We have decided to erect a monument to those who have fallen to Dragon-fire, together with the Men of Dale. The Arkenstone will be sealed within," Bilbo's head shot up at this but he continued, "so that never again shall it be a cause for war," he finished, his leveled gaze holding the hobbit's wide-eyed one.

"But…you…" Bilbo was at a complete loss for words. While he had fervently _hoped_ Thorin would get rid of the damned thing, he hadn't really dared to believe he'd actually _do_ it.

"Speechless, I see…" the dwarf noted, half amused.

"Impressed," Bilbo corrected as he held up a finger. "Into speechlessness," he then conceded with a nod at the other's raised eyebrow. However something else occurred to him in that instant; the Arkenstone had certainly been the last straw, but Thorin hadn't been in his right mind long before he'd actually _seen_ the jewel. No, the madness had taken hold of him much sooner. "So…the gold-fever or Dragon-sickness or whatever it's called…is it actually… _gone_?"

"Yes," Thorin replied after a short pause.

"But could it… _come back_ one day?" the hobbit insisted meekly.

Thorin sighed at this before answering honestly. "It is not _impossible_. I don't intend to let it, but I've already made the mistake of thinking myself above it once, and by my blood I swear I won't do it again," he assured him. He then chuckled as he looked back up at him. "Although it would be reassuring to know that someone who isn't afraid to stand up to me and tell me the truth is around. Just in case."

Bilbo's eyes widened slightly at this and he found himself looking away as he cleared his throat – because if _that_ wasn't an invitation, then he didn't know what could qualify as such. "Yes, well…" he sighed at that, having no idea what to actually say beyond this. "I've…already promised Fíli and Kíli that I would give it some serious thoughts. To staying, I mean. For good. Or some time at the very least," he rambled uncomfortably.

"You are most welcome to stay with us in Erebor, Master Baggins, for however long you'll please," Thorin replied quietly, but there could be no doubting the honesty behind his words.

The way Thorin looked at him reminded Bilbo of those times in their journey when they'd talked or shared a smile or two – times when he'd found himself wondering if perhaps…if maybe it would be possible for them to…he shook his head at that, as though to rid himself of that train of thoughts. For better or worse, that ship had sailed, it was no use dwelling on it. "For now I think…I'll stay at least until spring – winter is not a good time to be traveling. As for the future, perhaps it would be wisest to see about that when we actually get to it," he replied eventually. And then just because he didn't want there to be any doubts, he added, "I do believe that you would never _willingly_ hurt me, Thorin, please don't doubt that."

A grateful nod was his reply. "Then please also believe that I will do all in my power so that you need not fear my _potential_ actions either," he assured him, referring to how he'd taken a step back from him before. "Ever again."

"I know," Bilbo said softly. "I very much dislike being afraid of you…" he thought out loud.

"And I even more," Thorin assured him in a quiet voice. He then smiled at him the way Thorin Oakenshield did back when they were traveling. He could only wish that Thorin, son of Thráin, King Under the Mountain, would smile like this more often. "I am truly fortunate to have such an honest friend in you, Bilbo Baggins," he said earnestly.

"At your service," the hobbit replied half-teasingly as he bowed his head slightly.

The dwarf shook his head at that. "At yours," he replied as he bowed his own head in what had to have been a breach of at least a dozen royal etiquette rules – _possibly_ ; Bilbo honestly wasn't sure whether Dwarves actually _had_ something that resembled _etiquette_.

Bilbo chuckled at this and found himself feeling much more relaxed as he smiled back at him. They kept looking at each other like that until he cleared his throat uncomfortably, nodding his head distractedly. "Good. Excellent. Now that this is settled, I'll take my leave before a new rumor spreads around that has me harassing or bullying you," he said as he started edging back towards the tent's entrance.

"Bullying me?" Thorin repeated dubiously, not bothering to hide how utterly hilarious he thought that notion was.

"I _can_ be intimidating," Bilbo insisted.

In his kingly wisdom, Thorin did not reply anything to that.

Dwalin however was much more of an arse. "No you can't," he informed the hobbit flatly as he walked past him.

"I hate you, Dwalin, son of Fúndin," was the decidedly non-childish response Bilbo threw over his shoulder in passing as he didn't give him the satisfaction of turning around nor slowing down.

"At your service!"

"Dwarves…"

At least, he now knew for sure that he could stay! In the morning, he'd need to tell Fíli and Kíli – and the others too, of course. How very un-Hobbit-like, to be seriously considering settling down with Dwarves…and yet he was strangely happy about it. He just hoped it wouldn't all come crashing down on him when he least expected it.

It figured the prelude would come in the form of the King's two insufferable nephews.

"So, bullying Uncle now, are we?" Fíli asked loudly as he plopped down next to him at breakfast the next day, Kíli flanking his other side and wiggling his eyebrows.

Bilbo just silently prayed to have the patience not to start maiming Dwarves. Dale wasn't yet rebuilt enough for him to discreetly get sanctuary.

0o0o0

In all honesty, when Bilbo had offered to help Ori, he'd mostly done it out of kindness and with a desire to be helpful and pass the time, but he hadn't believed it would be an enjoyable task.

He'd been wrong.

Exploring the city as they'd been doing for the past weeks, without the threat of a Dragon or armies, nor the Arkenstone weighing on his shoulders, was an adventure in itself – and truly, how Tookish of him to start enjoying those so freely, now! Erebor was simply magnificent. It was a maze of carefully crafted stones, every arch and every pillar a work of art in itself. He was very vocal in voicing his opinion that railings should be rebuilt though, because even sober the height could make you walk sideways, and he knew the Dwarves' penchant for alcohol – railing-less pathways and alcohol was a disaster waiting to happen, no one would argue with him on that. They had old maps, of course, but still…not knowing what remained and what fell into decay made it exciting.

"I've found another corridor!" he called to his friend as he held his lantern closer down to the ground. "Look, I think I could definitely squeeze past these boulders," he ventured as he gave them careful jabs with his cane to make sure they wouldn't crumble down on him.

"I think you're right," Ori hummed as he kneeled to try and see down the partially obstructed path. "But it's a bit dangerous to go on your own…"

"I've faced worse under this mountain," the hobbit reminded him jokingly with a raised eyebrow.

"I admire you for being able to joke about this," the young dwarf remarked with a small shudder before going back to studying the blockade. "If we can just move this one, I can go with you…" he thought out loud.

"Or, I can just go ahead and we'll quickly know whether there's anything interesting that way," Bilbo said with a wink as he crouched down and carefully passed through the opening, taking the small lantern along. "Okay, I've made it!" he called to his friend as he dusted off his pants.

"Be careful, and don't go far," Ori repeated before pulling out some parchment and his writing equipment. "Tell me what you see."

"Well, it's a wide hall, like the others. I can see three—no, _four_ doors on the left and two large ones to the right," the hobbit started describing as he took cautious steps forward, adding approximate measurements. "Two of the left doors have been barricaded shut. The other two seem to be living quarters, with more rooms inside – judging from the size, I'd wager the two blocked rooms are similar. The tunnel goes on and I think there are more rooms ahead, but there's some more rubble blocking the way," he wiggled his nose as a horrid smell assaulted him as he neared one of the right-sided rooms. "The rooms on the right were obviously a kitchen and a dining hall and— _stars almighty_!" he exclaimed as he yelped and jumped to the side, his lantern cluttering down.

"Bilbo! What is it? What happened, are you alright?" Ori asked worriedly as he turned to look through the opening.

"Nothing, Ori, just spiders – _regular_ size…sorry for frightening you…" Bilbo assured him as he crawled back to the dwarf. "I think if we could clear these boulders and deal with the spiders, this place could house quite a few people," he mused, taking a look at the map Ori had made from his description, making a quick correction on the layout.

Ori nodded his agreement as he carefully put the map away. "Yes, and it doesn't look like there would be a risk of the ceiling tumbling down on us if we were to remove the boulders blocking the way. Well…that's good news! Let's continue, we're almost done with this side of the halls."

"Right," Bilbo said as he moved to follow him, however stopping as he let out a small groan. "Wait, I forgot the lantern after I dropped it because of the spiders – I'll be right back!" he said as he made his way back. Ori held his own lantern as far as he could through the opening so he'd have some light.

Naturally the princes chose this moment to come and see what their map-making friends were up to. "Ori! Why are you alone? Where's Bilbo?" Fíli asked suspiciously.

"Oh, he's just down that corridor—"

"Trough that tiny hole? Why did you let him take such risks?" Fíli exclaimed without letting their friend say any more. "Bilbo! Are you alright?" he asked urgently.

"Yes, quite alright – I _can_ take of myself you know?" the hobbit replied in clipped tones as he grabbed the lantern and made his way back to the opening, however pausing as Kíli was half-stuck in it. They stared at each other in silence for a few seconds before Bilbo spoke, quite unimpressed. "Let me guess: you're stuck." In his defense, Kíli's shame-filled grin was so earnestly sheepish that it was impossible to remain cross at him. "What am I ever going to do with you…?" he muttered warmheartedly. "Fíli, Ori, our illustrious Prince Kíli got himself stuck – I suggest you each grab a leg and pull," he instructed the other two loudly.

Kíli sent him a look of absolute betrayal at this, pointing his finger at him as though promising revenge.

"Yes, I _am_ enjoying this," Bilbo confessed as he smirked. "And you brought this on yourself, acting without thinking like that. What if it'd been dangerous? You're a Prince of Erebor, Kíli, you have to be more careful!" he gently chided.

Kíli wanted to protest but his eyes widened as he felt his legs being grabbed surely and let out a small whimper before he was pulled out of his bind. Bilbo soon followed, in a much more nimble and dignified fashion, before quickly checking the dwarf's jaw to make sure he hadn't worsened anything. The temporary mute prince narrowed his eyes at him and tapped his brother's arm before signing something to him.

"You need to be more careful," Fíli relayed, although he didn't need Kíli to tell him that. "And _you_ , what were you thinking, letting him?" he asked Ori accusingly.

"Don't pin this on Ori, he's not my guardian and I'm perfectly capable of fending for myself," Bilbo cut him off with a frown. "And I'll remind you that nothing was amiss until _you two_ overreacted," he noted as he poked both their chests, raising an eyebrow. He did nothing to tone down his smugness as they looked down guiltily. "What are you doing here anyway?"

Fíli looked up as though only now remembering. "The two of you didn't show up for lunch – we were worried!"

"My, has it been so long already?" Bilbo asked in surprise as he looked around. With no sunlight filtering through the tunnels, it was easy to lose track of time, but now that he thought about it, he _was_ getting quite hungry.

Ori looked down at his parchment-filled bag with a grin at that. "I suppose we found too many things of interest in these halls. But I _am_ hungry, now that you mention it! I don't suppose there's anything left for us?" he asked wistfully.

"Dori saved you some food," Fíli reassured him as they trudged back towards the exit together.

"And what about me, am I to starve?" Bilbo asked them teasingly.

"You wound us, Bilbo! Thinking that we would forget you!" Fíli replied in mock-shock while Kíli slapped a hand to his chest in hurt. "Anything for the Hobbit brave enough to bully our Royal Uncle!" he then added with a brash grin.

Bilbo sputtered indignantly at this. "I'm not a—never mind, I'm not even going to waste my time debating this with you," he declared as he held a hand up, letting out a deep breath.

Kíli's grin widened – because apparently, he could _always_ grin more widely, even when he wasn't _supposed_ to – and he teasingly shoved his shoulder.

"Do not sass me, dwarfling," the hobbit replied warningly, missing the way Ori stared at him in awe until they were out in the daylight once more. "What is it, Ori?" he asked as the brothers hurried off ahead to let people know they'd found them.

The young dwarf looked away sheepishly and shrugged. "It's just…the way you handle the princes, I have no doubt believing that you did indeed…" he trailed off timidly at this, clearing his throat.

"Bully Thorin?" Bilbo finished helpfully, face blank and tone just a bit exasperated. "That's it…I'm not fighting rumors anymore – let people talk! I'll just grab lunch!" he declared as he went on ahead. Dwarves and their proclivity for rumors…

0o0o0

His friends' propensity for gossip made itself know again that very evening, when Thorin stopped by the hobbit as he was walking back to his tent. "My nephews tell me you've been taking risks while exploring the corridors," he said simply by way of greeting.

Bilbo nearly jumped out of his skin as he had not expected him to appear out of the blue like that. Staying true to his earlier decision not to further damage his sanity by arguing for lost causes however, he simply pinched the bridge of his nose. "I want it noted and known for future reference that Dwarves are obviously unable to relay a full story, but rather only the bits and pieces that make for an interesting tale," was his honest reply. Thorin raised an eyebrow in amusement at this, so he crossed his arms over his chest. "For instance, did Fíli see fit to tell you that Kíli got himself stuck in a hole during his valiant attempt to 'rescue' me?"

"No, he did not," the dwarf admitted as he looked torn between grinning fondly at his nephews' antics, being annoyed at them for withholding this particular piece of information, or remaining impassively neutral.

"Fancy that," Bilbo mocked as they remained at a stand-still for a moment until they both broke and chuckled. "Well, Kíli _did_ get stuck. And then Fíli and Ori had to each grab a leg to pull him out. _I_ , on the other hand, could fit right through," he informed him, making a fluid motion with his arm to mimic a seamless venture.

Thorin's gaze trailed to the sky helplessly. "I shall have a word with him on his…lack of wisdom in trying to crawl through Hobbit-sized holes," he started, smile widening at the other's indignant protests. "However, it does not change the fact that you _did_ unnecessarily endanger yourself," he then stated as he sobered up.

"No I didn't, Thorin," Bilbo assured him seriously, and the slightest bit exasperated. "I was being very careful and I was safe all along – and why does everyone seem to think that I need to be protected? I _can_ take care of myself, you know? I was perfectly fine on my own for fifty years before a certain Dwarvish Company introduced me to danger," he reminded him with a raised eyebrow.

"Everyone is simply expressing their concern for your safety," Thorin replied intently. "It would not do to have you survive the Dragon and the battle only to succumb to falling rocks in the tunnels of the city!" And really, it was a testament to his character that he tried to soften this with humor. Really.

"Well 'everyone' can stuff it," the hobbit replied confrontationally.

Thorin's eyes narrowed at him, partly in irritation, mostly in amusement. "Myself included?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Particularly so," Bilbo insisted, the corners of his mouth pulling up into an easy grin once more.

"You are truly a confounding person, Master Baggins – just when I think I've got you pegged, you find new ways to surprise me," the dwarf finally noted, his own smile back as well.

"At your service," Bilbo replied with a bow of his head.

Thorin didn't reply anything to that except to wish him a good night, but from the next day on, Dori joined his brother and the hobbit in their exploration.

Bilbo didn't have it in him to complain nor argue, because secretly, he was greatly pleased that the others ( _Thorin_ ) worried so for his safety. And in all fairness, Dori wasn't bad company, even if his mother-hen streak did tend to get to the worse of him at times…

The following morning, upon reaching the breakfast tent, Bilbo saw the two princes already seated and narrowed his eyes as he walked to stand behind them, clamping a hand on each one's shoulder, perhaps squeezing a bit more than was warranted. "Fíli, Kíli, how good to see you!" he said brightly with a wide smile.

The calmness he showcased did nothing to camouflage the irritated aura that he radiated, and both brothers froze and shared worried looks as they knew that smile was fake – fake, fake, _fake_ and how can anyone smile that sweetly when their eyes are basically promising you many a painful deaths?

"Bilbo," said Fíli, ever the brave one willing to protect his brother. "Why don't you join us? Fresh bacon came this morning from the markets of Dale!" He would forever insist he did not whimper as the hobbit's hand tightened on his shoulder.

"Are you sure you don't need to run this invitation by your uncle before?" Bilbo asked innocently. "Seeing as you _do_ report everything to him…"

Kíli for his part dropped all pretenses and whimpered.

In front of them, Dwalin, Glóin, Bofur, Bifur, Dori and Ori's attention was riveted on them, with more than one shit-faced grin in the mix. A few coins might have even changed hands between Glóin and Bifur, but no one paid any notice.

"Perhaps we should use this as a lesson to remember not to meddle into other people's affairs, what do you think?" Bilbo asked in the most saccharine voice he could muster.

"That is _exactly_ what we were about to suggest!" Fíli quickly assured him. "Right, Kíli?" His brother was all too eager to nod his agreement.

Bilbo surveyed them each carefully, smile never diminishing, before he finally released his hold on their shoulders and walked to sit himself down – smugly noticing how Kíli imperceptibly tried to shuffle away from him. "Ah, fresh bacon…" he mused as he helped himself to a good serving as though nothing had happened. He did however grin as Bofur, Bifur and Glóin finally burst out laughing, and he raised an eyebrow at Dwalin as the warrior looked at the princes with a predatory grin.

"They don't count," Dwalin assured him with a huff, visibly referring to their last jibes. "They're still only dwarflings; it's not that hard intimidating _them_."

Fíli and Kíli shot him such a glare that the laughter doubled. But Bilbo could not find it in him to feel guilty for embarrassing the princes like that.

Dwarves…they were clearly rubbing off on him…

0o0o0

In the end, Kíli's estimations had been correct, and little over five weeks after the Battle of the Five Armies, the Dwarves started moving their camp from the plains to the walls of Erebor. The wide bridge and gigantic gate had been rebuilt in a surprisingly quick lapse of time (albeit perhaps in a less ornate form), a testament to the Dwarves' prowess in craftsmanship.

The members of the Company had naturally been granted the honor of having first pick on the living quarters, and the families Ur and Ri had decided on the large corridor Bilbo and Ori had found once the boulders had been cleared, because nothing could beat the practicality of a _big_ kitchen, and a large dining room was always good – not to mention they'd also discovered a quite big common room further down the corridor after they'd cleared the blockades. Bilbo decided to follow them, since he'd after all become quite used to rooming with them, and internally would feel safer with six dwarves around him. The Dwarves from the Iron Hills hadn't exactly been antagonistic towards him, more along the lines of curious or dismissive, but still…strength in numbers, better safe than sorry and all that. Besides, he and Ori had decided to take on the task of rearranging the library together, so living not far from each other made sense.

That was without counting on the resident troublemakers. Fíli and Kíli had shown up to grab the hobbit and proceeded to carry him away mere minutes after he'd dropped his sack in his new room.

"Do I even want to know what this is about?" Bilbo asked as he'd long ago learned not to fight back when they were like this.

"Trust us, _this_ you'll like!" Kíli assured him, his jaw now practically healed, to his greatest joy and pleasure – and to everyone else's small annoyance, as the past few weeks had been agreeably quiet.

The map-maker in him recognized the area they were taking him to, and he frowned in confusion. "Why are you taking me to the royal quarters? If you wanted to show off your new rooms, shouldn't you have unpacked first?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"So impatient, Master Hobbit," Fíli mocked with a sad sigh. They passed a first corridor with several doors but the princes ignored them in favor of the primary hall where there were five larger doors. "Uncle's room," he informed him with much more gravity than was warranted as he pointed towards the largest doors on the other end of the hall.

Bilbo refused to take the bait and just looked disinterested.

"This one will likely be Mother's, when she'll come to stay in Erebor," Kíli continued, pointing to the door closest to Thorin's on the left. He then pointed to the second door on their left, closer to them. "That one's Fíli's. And this one mine," he said as he pointed to the one directly across it on their right.

"Because he can sleep through _anything_ ," Fíli supplied helpfully.

Bilbo just wanted to tug on his mustache to teach him a lesson in subtlety and minding your own business. All jokes aside, they really _could_ use a lesson on subtlety, because he sure as Mordor was _not_ going to give them the satisfaction of asking about the last room. A three-way staring contest was thusly established, and they remained at a stand-still for a moment.

Finally Kíli lost it and grabbed the hobbit's wrist to pull him to the last door himself, pushing it open with an unceremonious nudge of the foot after he'd turned the handle. "This would normally be the _Consort's_ chambers, but seeing as there _is_ no Consort, it's empty," he explained as he kept pulling him forward into the room – the _huge_ , nearly thrice-as-big as the rooms below room – towards a terrace that overlooked the valley.

Bilbo felt his protests at being handled die down in his throat as he took in the view before him, the valley seemingly stretching forever, with the slowly-but-steadily recovering Dale standing right at the center of it. Closing his eyes automatically, he took in a deep breath of cool air and let it out slowly, feeling slightly envious despite himself. The lower floors' balconies were only used by the guards for their rounds and the city's protection; there was a terrace by the market district and another by the main dining hall, but it seemed only the royal chambers had their own private ones.

Fíli and Kíli exchanged satisfied looks at this, knowing that their friend loved the open sky. "You're welcome to come here as much you'd like," Kíli offered.

"We know it's a big change for you, living under a mountain. So we will make everything in our power to make this more bearable for you," Fíli added earnestly.

"And you can visit us as well any time you want! We'll make sure the guards know!" Kíli assured him brightly.

Bilbo's breath caught in his throat, and his heart swelled with affection as he turned to them, both princes looking at him with bated breath as though uncertain whether they'd overstepped their boundaries – for real, for once. Throwing protocol and whatnot to the wind, he grabbed a hold of their collars and pulled them forward into a crushing embrace. "The two of you are really the most loyal, lovable goofs I have ever met – when you're not busy plotting mischief and wreaking havoc," he said fondly, letting out a feeble wheeze as his hold was returned and the air was subsequently kicked out of his lungs.

"We really want you to think of Erebor as your home," Kíli said in earnest, sounding like the child he still was at heart.

"You don't need to worry about that," Bilbo replied honestly, feeling his eyes mist the slightest bit. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Thorin in the doorway, leaning against the door sill and looking at them with a raised eyebrow, puzzled and amused. Yet there was also warmth in his eyes that made the hobbit want to reach for him as well. But Bilbo rolled his eyes to the sky as the princes didn't notice their uncle and didn't let go, so he just used a hand to shoo the king away. Surprisingly, he complied, nodding with a smile. He then gently pat the brothers' backs at this. "Come on now, I need to unpack and so do you, or we'll never be on time for dinner," he said jokingly as he nudged them back.

Fíli and Kíli complied, the youngest quickly wiping his eyes with his sleeve (Bilbo pretended not to notice), and they all made their way back to their respective rooms. Bilbo threw a glance back towards the King's door before going down the stairs, but he was nowhere to be seen. He'd completely convinced himself he wasn't disappointed by the time he returned to his room. Admittedly, that was most probably due to finding Bifur and Nori nearly tearing the place down in a mad chase.

"Nori cheated at cards again," Bofur helpfully informed him as he raised the laundry basket he was carrying over his head to keep it from becoming collateral damage as Bifur finally crashed down into Nori and made them tumble to the ground.

"It wasn't cheating!" the middle Ri brother insisted with a wheeze. "It's called strategic placement!"

The hobbit only smiled at this, easily stepping over the pile of dwarves to return to his own room, finding it luckily unscathed. Looking around the bare walls, and sitting down on the bed, he sighed as he let himself fall back on the mattress – it was slightly bigger than he was used to, since it had been made for Dwarves, but he was certain that wouldn't be a problem. He closed his eyes and found himself smiling as he listened to the excited talks and arguments coming in from the open door, as well as a mouthwatering smell floating from the kitchens (because Bombur naturally could not wait to use it), and he thought that Fíli and Kíli had no reason to be worried.

This was already home.

* * *

 


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

The first caravan from the Blue Mountains was at least three more months away, but quite a few Dwarves – merchants, soldiers, craftsmen, nobles and commoners alike – from the Iron Hills had jumped at the opportunity to try out a new beginning for themselves and their family in the reborn Erebor, so their numbers already reached that of a small village by the time they had officially moved into the mountains. As any self-respecting Dwarf would say, this deserved a grand feast. And no self-respecting Dwarf would turn away the opportunity to indulge in a grand feast.

And so it was that nearly a week after having moved into their new quarters Under the Mountain, the Dwarves of Erebor threw that grand feast. No expense was spared, and the Men of Dale as well as the Elves of Mirkwood (Bilbo had no idea how Balin had achieved that miracle) were invited. Everyone had been put to contribution, from hunting to chopping to cooking to setting, and Bilbo had realized with much sadness (and amusement) that he was not, in fact, the Fastest Potato Peeler Under the Mountain after all (a title he'd won and kept for six consecutive years in the Shire!) as Bifur had proven his skill.

"I stand humbled, Master Bifur," the hobbit informed him solemnly as he threw yet another potato in their shared water basin.

The dwarf just laughed heartily at this, peeling knife rapidly skinning the potato he was holding but barely even looking at.

"This is amazing! I've never seen anyone keep up with Bifur before! You're peeling them faster than we can cook them!" Bombur noted happily as he came to get some more.

"Well I was after all six times champion of the Summer's end celebration in Hobbiton's potato-peeling contest," Bilbo informed him with no small amount of fake modesty as he continued his work.

"Your people hold potato-peeling competitions at celebrations?" Bofur asked with a raised eyebrow as he stopped by them, a high pile of plates miraculously balanced in his arms.

The hobbit shrugged as he reached for another potato from their quickly-dwindling pile. "Well, an awful lot of people attend, and we Hobbits have quite the appetite! So we often turn chores into a game – and some take it very seriously!" he assured him, chuckling as he remembered some _extremely_ heated contests.

"Some like yourself, perhaps?" his friend teased him, sharing a look with his cousin.

"Yes well…nothing gets Hobbits involved like a competition!" Bilbo replied with another shrug – and a blush.

"Well that wouldn't work with us Dwarves," Bombur noted with a shake of his head as Bifur nodded his agreement.

"Why not?"

"We don't take well to losing," Bofur supplied factually. "You'd have people declaring duels for honor left an' right – even for a potato-peeling contest!"

Bilbo had to admit there were few things less ridiculous to fight over than potato-peeling skills, so he left it at that. Not that the Hobbits themselves didn't have an uncanny ability to turn every and anything into a family feud: both Bagginses and Tooks were still arguing over _which side_ he got his 'talent' from. Regardless, being back in a kitchen lifted his spirits, and he was glad to help in any way that he could. In the end he barely had time to quickly scrub himself down and change into clean clothes (a rather fetching new ensemble made by Dori, who'd thought it was unfair that Bilbo didn't have access to clothing correctly tailored to his build and had therefore taken it upon himself to correct the perceived slight) before making his way to the dining hall.

Once there, he walked towards his usual seat next to Ori at the Company's table. Out of the corner of his eyes, he noted that Balin, Fíli and Kíli were at the King's table with the likes of Dáin, Bard, or Prince Legolas (apparently his father, while not wanting to risk provoking open war once again by refusing an invitation, did not want to see them more than he had to and sent his son in his stead – no one complained). The hobbit tried not to grin too widely at the pitiful look Fíli sent him and Kíli's matching pout, as they were clearly unhappy about having to behave as Princes of Erebor tonight, and not the crazy Dwarves they really were. He gave them a little teasing bow, and then his breath caught in his throat as he met Thorin's gaze, nodding at him with an amused expression. Remembering his manners, he bowed to him, and the King replied with a tilt of his head.

Bilbo sent one last look to the princes before going to his seat, smiling at Ori before turning to Dori who was a couple of seats down. "Congratulations on the princes' outfits, Dori – they actually _look_ the part for once!" he told him with a grin.

The table erupted in laughter at this, with even Dwalin joining in. "It's gonna take a lot more than fancy clothing for those two to _really_ look the part!" he replied behind his tankard of ale – but they all knew he was only teasing and would never openly disrespect the royal family like this.

"They'd need to start by not looking like their pup's dead just because they have to sit at the grown-ups' table!" Glóin added in good humor as he passed a plate of meat around.

"You don't look so scruffy yourself now that you're no longer covered in potato peels!" Bofur teased as he poured his friend a generous quantity of ale and refilled his own drink while he was at it.

Bilbo humored him by standing up and turning around, bowing at the cheers and applause he received. "Thank you, thank you. All the credit goes to Dori – I've never seen anyone put together so many outfits in so little time!" he deflected honestly as he'd seen him work this past week.

"Oh, to each his trade, my lad, it was my pleasure," the dwarf replied dismissively but obviously pleased by the praise. Fondly, he looked at his brothers who were wearing their brand new tunics as well – and even Nori was behaving and had so far neither stained nor torn it.

"That blue really brings out your eyes, Bilbo!" Ori complimented kindly as he studied the hems of the jacket, always impressed by his brother's work and slightly jealous that _he_ never managed such perfect seams.

A few pairs of eyes including Bilbo's trailed down to said jacket which was a rich dark blue. "It's a fine fabric indeed," he agreed as he fingered it. "I love its shade."

"I particularly like the way it looks combined with the emerald green vest," Dori added, ever the connoisseur. "If I may say so myself," he quickly added, not to appear too self-serving.

"Indeed, Dori. You chose well," Bilbo assured him kindly, noticing the way his friend sputtered and looked away but not being able to dwell on it as Bifur loudly handed him a casserole of some sort. A look inside revealed it to be mashed potatoes. "Ah, the fruit of our labor, I see," he noted with a grin.

"Oh yes, you don't know," Bofur drawled loudly as he turned to the dwarves who weren't in the kitchens earlier. "Our Burglar here was six times potato-peeling champion of the Shire!" he informed them all to their greatest amusement. "Because _yes_ , they actually hold potato-peeling competitions in the Shire!" he quickly added before the question could be asked.

"Well, that's not exactly it," Bilbo denied meekly before he just threw his arms up in surrender. "They're never going to let me live this down, are they?" he asked Ori.

The young dwarf visibly wanted to reassure him, but he was never a good liar, so he shook his head with a sigh and a comforting pat on his shoulder. "I'm afraid not. I'm truly sorry," he said loyally.

"I'm not," Bilbo confessed in a whisper with a wink. "Not _really_. There are worse things to be mocked for than potato-peeling skills."

Ori had to recognize the wisdom behind these words. Wordlessly, he held up his glass in a toast and hit it to his friend's.

As soon as the dubbed 'official' part of the meal was done, meaning the _meal_ itself, some Dwarves took to dancing while others took to drinking games and yet others sung their own songs. People mingled, Men and Dwarves exchanging songs and stories, a rare occasional Elf joining – for the stories, not the songs, and even then, they mostly stayed closer to the Men instead of the Dwarves. Still, no diplomatic incident had exploded yet. Fíli and Kíli for their part could not get over to their companions fast enough once they were excused from their royal duties.

"I can't believe how well-behaved you lads have been acting all evening!" Glóin teased them loudly.

"For a moment there I believed we actually _had_ two Princes!" Nori added with a sly grin.

"We know _how_ to behave!" Fíli replied indignantly before grinning playfully. "We just don't usually _care_ to!"

Bilbo could only laugh at this: clearly those two had no shame – and a boon it was, truly! "Indeed, you were both so princely that for a moment I worried you'd been replaced by look-alikes!" he joked as he pulled on one of Kíli's brand new braids to annoy him as the dwarf had reached over him to take his glass and had promptly emptied it. "Hey, get your own!" he admonished.

"I prefer stealing yours!" the dark-haired prince declared before making a show of refilling and re-emptying his cup. He then gave a yelp as the hobbit once more pulled on one of his braids. "Stop that!"

"You first," Bilbo replied childishly as he didn't stop because two could play this game.

Kíli grinned wickedly before looking to the side in uncharacteristic shyness. "Bilbo, please…it's very embarrassing to have you touching my braids like that in public…people will think we're courting," he said with a very convincing expression.

He was so good that had it not been for their friends' roars of laughter, Bilbo would have actually believed him. "Oh, you are on a dangerous path," he warned as he tugged on his braid once more for good measure.

"Seriously though," Kíli started as he leaned against him on the bench. "Touching braids in public _is_ normally reserved for couples – or direct kin," he informed him with a raised eyebrow, grin widening as his friend immediately let go of his hair as though he'd been bitten.

"And you'd need to petition Uncle for his approval to fondle Kíli's braids for all to see," Fíli supplied helpfully from his other side, one foot absently tapping the ground to the music's beat.

Bilbo surveyed them both carefully before letting out a snort – properness be damned. "Then I guess we'll need to continue later in private, eh Kíli?"

The prince was shocked for all of a second before he burst out laughing with the rest of the group.

" _In private_ , he said? With _Kíli_?" Óin asked befuddled as he leaned closer to them, relaxing as his brother repeated the conversation for him.

"Where _ever_ did we lose our sweet and gentle Hobbit?" Fíli wondered with an amused frown.

"Probably somewhere between the giant spiders and the even more giant _dragon_ ," Bilbo deadpanned as he'd managed to steal his cup back from Kíli. "Or maybe it was just because of the Dwarves…you can't underestimate the sapping effect Dwarves can have even on the best-balanced of minds!" he added seriously, taking a gulp of his drink to hide his smirk.

"Well I like this new Hobbit!" Bofur declared, more cheers soon joining him. Bifur yelled something else in Khuzdûl and they laughed ever louder. "And ever right you are, cousin! Come now, time for a song!" he said as he stood on the bench.

They all cheered loudly at this, knowing the cousins were masters of entertainment, but Bilbo frowned as he noticed Kíli was glaring rather intently at the royal table. Or _someone_ at the royal table, to be precise. "Stop glaring at him, you're just bringing him satisfaction in the knowledge that he irks you," he told him gently as he moved to stand in front of him to block his line of sight.

"Oh, he does a lot more than 'irk' me," the dark-haired prince replied stubbornly as he crossed his arms over his chest, barely resisting the urge to pout.

"Your rivalry is with Legolas, not Mirkwood," Bilbo reminded him as he tapped his knuckles to his forehead. "But when the Prince of Erebor glares daggers at the Prince of Mirkwood at an official gathering, tensions arise and some might wrongly think allies to be mistrusted enemies," he said sagely.

Kíli's eyes widened and he looked around, indeed noticing that some dwarves were whispering to each other while scowling as they looked at the elves – and the Prince in particular – and he immediately sobered up. "You're right, I should learn to better control my emotions. When did you get so wise?" he asked teasingly, unable to remain serious too long.

"I was always wise," Bilbo replied with a huff. "You just weren't mature enough to see it," he added off-handedly, grin widening at his friend's mock-outrage. Any retribution he might have faced however was interrupted by Ori as Bofur had finished his song.

"Bilbo, can you teach us songs from the Shire?" the dwarf asked his friend excitedly.

The hobbit blinked in surprise at the positive reactions the simple request brought. "Well I…suppose I could show you a song or two…but wait—are you going to throw food at me?" he asked them suspiciously as he remembered the food deluge Bofur had often exposed himself to.

"Only if you're good," Nori promised solemnly.

This only puzzled Bilbo more. "I fear to ask this, but what if I'm _not_?" he wondered.

The dwarves shared murmurs and serious looks at this, and Dwalin looked positively terrifying, the way he trailed his fingers across one of his knives' blade.

"Well _that's_ reassuring," Bilbo noted dryly with a raised eyebrow before taking in a deep breath. Figuring he might as well humor them, he finished the last of his drink in one gulp and stood on the bench. He cleared his throat once or twice, and then started singing, wondering whether he should ready his arms to protect himself from a volley of food. As it turned out, he _did_ , but as he'd just learned that was actually a good sign!

The Dwarves turned singing into a sport, and Bofur quickly joined him on the table to sing another song, one he'd actually taught him during their adventures. To his mild horror, Bilbo found himself carried away and lobbed a carrot-head at his friend's head at some point – truly, Grandma Baggins would be properly _appalled_ to learn he'd thrown food at someone like a completely uncouth (Took) child! Eventually a few Men from Dale joined them, and to his delight the hobbit found that he knew one of their songs from his visits to Bree. Soon his throat felt dry and his voice turned hoarse from all the singing, but he hadn't laughed that much in a very, very long time and he'd forgotten how good it felt. The Dwarves' tendency to stand on tables when carried away seemed to amuse the Men to no end, and Bofur and Kíli were happy to entertain them all in that respect.

"I'm going to get some air," he told Fíli as he tapped his shoulder.

"Need an escort?" the prince asked with a grin.

"Now that wouldn't be proper, showing off with both brothers in the same evening – what would people think of me?" Bilbo asked in mock-outrage, only smiling wider at his friend's laughter. He then made his way to the terrace, carefully avoiding the half-drunken Men he walked past for fear of their long, _long_ legs and ignoring the few Dwarves who pointed at him and whispered among themselves. Once he reached the balcony, he stretched his arms absently and took in one deep breath, chuckling to himself as even from there he could hear his friends. In the distance, lights flickered in Dale, and he thought that perhaps they were having a little celebration of their own – he thought it would be very much in Bard's character to provide entertainment to all his people fairly.

"You seem to have truly become a member of the Company in all aspects," a deep voice told him in amusement.

Bilbo raised an eyebrow as he turned to Thorin. "You mean I wasn't before?"

"Well, it _is_ the first time you've sung on tables or thrown food at someone, as I recall it," Thorin replied half-seriously as he walked to stand by him, absently resting his hands on the cold stones.

"Yes, it seems you've finally succeeded in making me let me go of what little manners I'd managed to hold on to. Congratulations," the hobbit quipped sarcastically, his wide grin belying his accusing words. "Dwarves…" he cursed with no real animosity.

"Burglar-Hobbits," Thorin retorted with a raised eyebrow, briefly looking back at the feast and shaking his head fondly despite himself at Kíli's table-dancing antics. "My nephews seem quite taken with you," he noted, letting the end of his sentence hang off as though in question.

Bilbo chuckled warmly at this. "I think they just like having someone who fusses over them like the two overbearing troublemakers that they are. No offence," he quickly added, not wanting to insult the Royal line.

"Please, that was the mildest way I've ever heard anyone describe them!" the dwarf assured him as he held up a hand dismissively. "I would assume this implies we haven't really rid you of _all_ manners yet," he joked.

" _Yet_ ," Bilbo agreed, turning his head to look at him, smiling contentedly. He then thought back on the other day, when the King had caught him and his nephews in the Consort's chambers – and he had to shake his head at that, because that sounded way too cavalier, even if only in his head. "Fíli and Kíli seem to have taken it upon themselves to ensure I will think of Erebor as my home. They showed me the royal quarters so that I would know I can always call on them, and visit their balconies when I need some fresh air and a look at the sky. For all the pranks they pull, they are surprisingly thoughtful at times," he mused quietly. "You must be very proud of them."

"I am," Thorin acknowledged with a nod, extremely pleased that the hobbit would think so highly of his nephews. "And so is their mother – my sister – although I suspect they will get quite the talking-to in regards to their constant risk-taking when she reaches Erebor."

"You actually seem scared, O mighty King Under the Mountain," the burglar noted teasingly.

"You have not met Dís," Thorin insisted ruefully, and it was infinitely amusing to see him react like such a normal person. "But my nephews are right: you are most welcome in the royal quarters any time you wish," he then said, looking back at him.

"Thank you," the hobbit breathed out, caught in those eyes. And inwardly he realized why he liked his new coat that much: the color reminded him of Thorin's eyes. At this he averted his own, as though his thoughts could somehow be read – yes, he was aware of how ridiculous it sounded, but he'd drunk a bit too much. "Is it proper for the King to be away from his feast?" he then asked for lack of a better thing to say.

"Probably more proper than it is for the King's nephew to dance on a table with a toymaker for all to see," said King replied in good fun, smile widening as Bilbo looked back at him with a raised eyebrow. "But I think that in Erebor, I would like for us all to maintain a certain level of…"

"Impropriety?" Bilbo helpfully supplied.

Thorin crossed his arms over his chest with a short laugh as he gave a light shrug. "I was going to say 'liberty', but in effect, you are right," he conceded as he looked back at Kíli. "In all honesty, I would not have the heart to go to him now and demand he gets off the table – as strange as this even sounds!" he admitted with a pained sigh.

"He does that to you," Bilbo drawled as he followed his look. "Knows how to use his pretty looks to his advantage – him and Fíli both!" he added matter-of-factly as he leaned back against the ramparts.

"Most people from other races would never think of referring to a Dwarf as 'pretty'," Thorin noted with great amusement.

"Most people obviously haven't met Fíli and Kíli," Bilbo countered with a snort. "Must run in the family," he added casually before freezing as he realized the implications of what he'd just said. "Erm…not that _you're_ pretty," he quickly added reassuringly, turning to the King.

"Oh?" Thorin asked with a raised eyebrow, clearly enjoying this. "Thank you most kindly for reassuring me so."

"No I didn't mean it like that, you're not—you're perfectly fine, just…" Bilbo sighed in defeat at this. "You're having fun at my expense and I'm going to stop talking now," he informed him as he buried his hands in his coat's pockets. He had to cut back on the drinking: it was obvious those dwarvish brews did not agree with neither his sanity nor his capacity for self-censorship.

Thorin barely gave him ten seconds of dignity. "At least now I know I'm 'perfectly fine'."

"More like perfectly _evil_ ," Bilbo muttered as he buried his face in his hand with a groan. "The three of you are _definitely_ related, I see it now: you enjoy tormenting poor Hobbits," he accused, smiling despite himself as he looked back up at him. "I dare you to keep laughing at me, Thorin Oakenshield – _I dare you_ ," he warned fairly and seriously.

Thorin opened his mouth to rise to the bait, but he then noticed Balin gesturing at him and nodded back, turning more serious. "It would seem duty calls me. I will let you regain your honor, Master Baggins," he said with a mock-bow.

Bilbo bowed back just because he was _such a nice person_. "Your Highness is too good to me," he replied sweetly with a little grin.

Thorin's smile was back and he sent him a warning glance as he turned, however pausing in his steps. "In the interest of fairness, I would like you to know that I believe that you also look 'perfectly fine'. Especially this evening – this color suits you particularly well," he offered simply before he left as though he hadn't said anything out of the ordinary – that was a sneaky retreat if he'd ever seen one.

Bilbo simply stared after him in amazement, feeling pleased as he placed his hands in his pockets – and maybe he would be favoring dark blues from this day on.

And well, he'd sung on tables, drank too much, thrown food, and flirted with both Princes and the King – all in all, he'd say that his first feast in Erebor had been a frank success! He'd even woken up to learn that it was possible for your _hair_ to hurt, and found himself in someone else's bed! Oh, he was definitely a _real_ honorary Dwarf now!

…Oh.

Bilbo blinked a few times before he closed his eyes, let out a deep breath, counted to ten and opened them once more. Nope. He was still looking at Kíli's snoring face. He couldn't even accuse the prince of being the one to keep him unmoving with an iron grip, because _he_ was currently the one all wrapped around him. And he couldn't accuse him of having followed him either, because they were clearly in the royal quarters! On the positive side, they were still clothed! He was still debating how to disentangle himself from the dwarf without waking him when brown eyes opened sleepily, widening as they took him in.

"Yes, I'm in your bed. No, I don't remember how I got here. And we will never speak of this again," Bilbo warned him simply. "Ever."

Kíli's eyes trailed down to their bodies and he sighed in relief at their un-nakedness before nodding at him. "Agreed." And he took it with such practiced calm that Bilbo felt certain that wasn't his first time waking up to strange situations. Perhaps he'd need to keep an eye on him…

It would figure, Fate being just about the most foul and unfair thing that ever was, that Thorin would come out of his chambers at the same time that Bilbo left Kíli's. They were at a standstill for a moment, neither one too sure what to make of the situation until Bilbo sighed and held up a finger. "This is not what you think. I was just visiting. And dwarvish ale clearly does _something_ to my sanity," he warned him simply before turning to leave, pausing in his steps as something occurred to him. "Did I call you 'pretty' last night?" he asked with a frown.

Thorin chuckled at that as he shook his head magnanimously. "You endeavored to reassure me that I was _not_ , in fact, before stating that I was 'perfectly fine' – a compliment which I returned," he helpfully reminded him.

"Weeeell…thank you," Bilbo deadpanned as he looked at him unimpressed. "I think now is as good a time as any to go and try to recover my dignity. Do forgive me if I avoid you until I find it, which could take days – give or take a few weeks," he informed him blankly. He wanted to go but then thought of something else he wanted to say, even if perhaps now was not a good time – but when would it ever truly be? "Thorin? I've forgiven you, you know…" he told him seriously.

Thorin's eyes widened and he took a few steps closer to search his face for any doubts or second thoughts. "You mean it…" he murmured in realization.

"Of course – I wouldn't have said it otherwise," the hobbit replied with a frown. "It's just…the others forgave you much more quickly, but they're Dwarves, so maybe they understand, and I'm not a Dwarf so I _don't_ understand but…I don't want this looming over us," he tried to explain as best he could – it would have probably been easier had he not been so hung-over, but clearly some discussions were better with common inhibitions out of the way. "I know you'll do all in your power not to let a situation like that happen ever again." The way Thorin's shoulders sagged spoke of his relief more than words ever could have, and his eyes softened in such a way that Bilbo knew he'd been right – maybe that dwarf-ale hadn't been _all_ bad after all!

"I will not betray your trust again, Bilbo," Thorin vowed quietly but with enough intensity to melt away any doubts, as he reached out a hand to gently squeeze his shoulder. "Ever."

The hobbit simply smiled back at him, finding no words were necessary this time. Nodding at him, he turned back to make his way to his own room, more satisfied than embarrassed by the long held-off conversation. He supposed he was lucky that Fíli had remained in his room throughout the exchange – it was always important to be grateful for the little favors.

"Bilbo! There you are! Now, whose bed did you spend the night in, eh my friend?" Bofur asked him excitedly as he poked his ribs repeatedly with his elbow before slinging an arm around his shoulder – and he didn't even look the slightest bit befuddled from last night's drinks, even though he'd had _so much_ more than him – how was that supposed to be _fair_? "Was it a certain dark-haired Prince? Or a blond-haired one perhaps? Both? No—not the King?"

"With a friend like you, Bofur, who needs enemies?" the hobbit wheezed in defeat while he looked at his door longingly and held up a hand as though to reach for it. How could something so close feel so far away? As he was being dragged to the kitchen for breakfast, he wondered if this particular thought really only applied to his _door_.

0o0o0

Truthfully, once they got started on cleaning out the debris and cave-ins, the dwarves were truly unstoppable, sorting the city and its halls out with a practiced efficiency that never failed to impress. More corridors were cleared daily, and by the time they truly started preparing for the first caravan from the Blue Mountains, most railings had been rebuilt – or at least the ones linking the living quarters to the main halls. Bilbo was in the middle of examining and gingerly prodding said railings around their quarters when someone walked up behind him, making him freeze before he recognized the intruder and gently slapped his chest. "You scared me."

"You should be more attentive to your surroundings, Master Burglar," Fíli replied with a self-satisfied grin before frowning in worry as he pulled him back. "Anyone who's up to no good could effortlessly surprise you!" he gently chided.

"Funny you should reveal your game like this," Bilbo teased him, raising an eyebrow as he saw he was visibly excited about something. "What brings you here anyway?"

Fíli grinned at him. "We're going to visit Dale with Uncle. I've come to ask you along," he told him.

The hobbit opened his mouth to readily agree before he thought about it and frowned. "Isn't it an official visit? Royal business?"

"Balin and Dwalin are coming," Fíli replied with a shrug, absently rearranging the dagger in his coat's fur lining.

"Yes, the royal advisor and the royal bodyguard, that makes sense. What am _I_?" Bilbo quickly realized how careless he'd been to ask this and raised a warning finger. "If you say 'the entertainment', I will kick your shin and it will _hurt_ ," he warned him simply.

Fíli looked affronted as he gestured for him to follow him. "I was thinking more along the lines of 'royal friend'," he offered sweetly before grinning wickedly. "Or 'royal bed-warmer' in Kíli's case—"

Bilbo sputtered at this, looking up at him with narrowed eyes. "We agreed we'd never mention it to anyone! That little—"

"Kíli can't keep anything from me, Bilbo," Fíli reminded as though this was a simple and very-well known _fact_ before he returned to listing Bilbo's potential titles. "Maybe 'royal peace-keeper', since you seem to care so much about keeping us from starting wars. Or alternatively, there's always 'royal weak spot' where Uncle's concerned— _ow_!"

Nobody asked _why_ Fíli was limping as they joined them at the front gates. One look at the smug hobbit was enough to tell. Balin shook his head slightly, Dwalin grinned without restraint, and Thorin merely raised an eyebrow in amusement before he motioned for them to follow him.

"What did you do?" Kíli whispered to his brother as he steered his pony closer.

"Stop teasing him, Brother," was Fíli's only wary response and advice. "Or start wearing shin-guards at all times. I never knew one so small could kick so hard!"

"It's a fine day to visit the city, wouldn't you say?" Balin asked Bilbo, acting as though this was just another day of bad princely behavior – and it _was_ , really…

"Indeed," the hobbit replied agreeably, although still a bit wary of ponies. "It's been about three weeks since I last visited, busy as we were in the mountain…I wonder if it's changed as much as Erebor has in that short time?" he mused.

Balin smiled at his enthusiasm. "The villagers have not been idle. In the past the mutual efforts and cooperation of our peoples were always amongst our greatest strengths. I have no doubt this can someday once more be the case," he said contemplatively as he looked ahead at the great city of Men.

"I hope so as well – it would be nice," Bilbo agreed thoughtfully.

They continued their ride in companionable silence for the next ten minutes until the advisor chuckled as he watched the excited princes speed ahead of them. "Would an old Dwarf be letting his curiosity overstep his boundaries by enquiring as to what the Prince might have said to earn his punishment?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Bilbo snorted at that and grinned mysteriously. "Overstepping boundaries is _exactly_ what prompted me to remind him that Hobbits should not be underestimated," he replied with a shrug.

"And certainly not _our_ Hobbit," Balin conceded with a warm laugh as he fondly pat his shoulder. "Well done, my lad, well done. He might learn his lesson yet."

"As long as Dwalin doesn't lock me up for striking His Royal Princeness," Bilbo noted with one wary look towards the tall warrior.

Balin only chuckled at this, absently smoothing the ends of his beard. "Not to worry Bilbo, my brother has now warmed up to you!" he assured him.

Bilbo didn't have it in him to argue this point or express his skepticism when Balin looked so earnest. Besides, if not wanting him dead or gone anymore meant 'warmed up', then yes, _indeed_ , Dwalin had 'warmed up' to him! Huzzah!

Dale was undeniably shaping up into quite the agreeable town. Granted, with winter and the growing cold, they'd had no choice but to hurry and _make_ it livable, and had concentrated their efforts on a part of the city only – the rest would be taken care of in the warmer months according to their needs. Bard and his children had taken residence in the quarters above the town hall, and he received them with his usual grim – but now more polite and slightly more relaxed – demeanor. From what Bilbo understood, today's visit largely centered around Dale's weaponry and defense equipment, with the Dwarves making sure their neighbors were well outfitted in exchange for grains and vegetables. Meats were hunted by Dwarves and Men alike in the surrounding plains and mountains, while some merchants and fishermen had taken it upon themselves to arrange for a fish-trade from the banks of old Lake-town.

Bilbo sighed in contentment at the wine that was offered to them. Much more like what he was used to – much safer as far as his sanity was concerned! So busy was he contemplating establishing a wine contraband with Dale that he nearly jumped at the hand that pulled his sleeve inquisitively.

"Why do you live with Dwarves?" Bard's youngest daughter – yet almost taller than him, these Men never failed to confound him! – asked him with a curious frown.

"And why do you ask, young Lady?" he returned teasingly with a raised eyebrow.

"Because you're not a Dwarf, Da said so, so why would you live with them?" she asked matter-of-factly with all the confidence of a child.

"Tilda," her older sister chided her as she sent an apologetic look towards Bilbo.

"No, that's quite alright," the hobbit quickly assured her with a smile. "Tell me, why do you live with your father, and your brother and your sister?"

"Because they're my family," Tilda replied without missing a beat, looking at him as though he were missing the point.

Bilbo smiled at this as he pointed a finger at her and poked her nose – she couldn't resist a chuckle, children never could. "Exactly. I know they don't always look very friendly – or very clean, most of the time," he added conspiratorially with a wink, earning yet another giggle, "—but they are my friends, and now, for better or worse, my family," he finished.

"I think that's a really good reason!" Tilda declared with a bright smile.

"So do I," Bilbo agreed before he realized that everyone else had stopped their talking and had listened to them. And now he felt oddly self-conscious. He'd meant his words, yes, but he'd been talking to a little girl, they weren't supposed to listen in just like that! "The wine is excellent," he said to break the silence, unable to keep looking at Fíli and Kíli's wide eyes and touched grins, Balin's warm smile and Thorin's…well he'd rather not chance looking at Thorin at all.

"Thank you," Bard replied with an amused smile as he held his own glass in a toast.

"Has the trade been going well with the Elves, then?" Balin inquired, ever the clever attention-diffuser.

Bilbo could have kissed him. As it stood, he simply answered Tilda's questions on living under the mountain as best he could.

"Do you think I could visit the city?" the child asked excitedly after a moment. "Bain could come too, I guess…he wants to see the forges," she added with a distasteful frown at her brother's clear lack of good taste.

"I don't know," the hobbit said honestly, not wanting to make promises he couldn't keep – the forges weren't the safest after all. "You'd need to ask your father, so he can see what could be arranged with King Thorin."

Tilda pouted in disappointment at this. "If he's your family, couldn't _you_ ask him?"

Kíli snorted into his drink and Bilbo gave him a very meaningful and threatening look – and to Fíli as well, because he was only _slightly_ more discreet than his brother. "Shins," he warned them simply, satisfied when they immediately turned their attention back on their uncle and Bard.

"Come on Tilda, let Mister Baggins enjoy the rest of his meal in peace," Sigrid gently coaxed her sister into quitting her interrogation, smiling at the grateful look he sent her.

Once the pleasant and civil part of the visit was over, Bilbo left the dwarves and men to their discussions and wandered the town and its market, keeping his eyes peeled out for aromatic herbs – Bombur had recently been lamenting that their stocks weren't much varied and that he was limited in his options as a result. He'd just successfully negotiated a small stack of rosemary at a very satisfying price – his Baggins side was very good at haggling – when he heard his name being called. Puzzled, he looked up and smiled as he saw young Tilda and Sigrid on one of the watch-ways. Stuffing the rosemary into his sack, he carefully made his way to them, noting with surprise that the steps were small for Men-folk, as though they'd been made to better accommodate smaller folk – a testament to the close bond Men and Dwarves had once held in the valley, that very same bond they were now striving to rebuild. "My Ladies," he greeted as he reached them.

"That was quite the bargaining skills you displayed – I don't think I've ever seen old Ross so speechless before," Sigrid praised in amusement.

"Oh, I've found that nothing can compare with the haggling of Hobbits – it's been known to sometimes take all day!" he assured her modestly before looking over the city walls, stepping closer to stand on his toes and have a better view. Erebor looked so much better, so much grander now, even from the outside – although perhaps he was the slightest bit biased at this point. Sighing contentedly, he turned back to their hosts. "I am pleased to see the reconstruction of Dale is also going well," he said earnestly.

Sigrid nodded at him as she looked around coolly. "It's not been easy, but we've all been helping each other. My father has managed to keep everyone equally involved and recompensed fairly," she said with no small amount of pride.

"King Bard is a man worthy of respect," Bilbo readily agreed. "We haven't exactly brought him good fortune, yet he's treated us very graciously," he added with a wince and a grin.

"Because you've proven you deserve it," she said as she sat down next to him so he wouldn't need to crane his head back to look her in the eyes. "My father told us how you tried to prevent the battle from taking place. You were very brave."

The hobbit blushed at her words, not feeling comfortable receiving such praise. "I didn't change much in the end."

Sigrid shook her head at this. "You were willing to risk your life for peace – for your family's safety. In that, you are similar to my father, and as per your own words, worthy of respect," she replied surely with an amused twinkle in her eyes.

Bilbo chuckled and held his hands up at this. "I give up; you are too sharp for me!"

Tilda chose this moment to grab his sleeve and tug, having become bored by their 'serious-talk'. "Why isn't your frowny friend joining us?" she asked him with a confused tilt of the head.

"My frowny—sorry, _who_?" he asked in confusion.

"The tall frowny dwarf, the one with the half-shaved head and the big axes," she repeated as she pointed down – and sure enough, there was Dwalin, trying – and failing – to inconspicuously blend in with the market crowd.

"I have _no_ idea," Bilbo admitted as he shook his head. Dwalin looked up at this point and their eyes met – if looks could kill, he knew he'd be a dead Hobbit. He wondered what he'd done to anger him _this time_. "I suppose Thorin might've sent him to bring me back…I should return to the others."

"We'll show you a shortcut," Tilda offered excitedly as she pulled his hand – she was visibly all too happy to be able to pull an adult along like that. "And Mister frowny dwarf too of course!" she added as she hopped down the stairs happily, hobbit and sister on tow, and stopped by Dwalin to inform him she'd show them a shortcut. If he were braver – or suicidal – Bilbo would have laughed at the way the proud warrior reacted to the little Man-child's bossiness. As it stood, he simply looked the other way. (Besides, it was a known unspoken fact that they did not want to risk getting on Tilda's bad side in reference to That Moment Which Shall Not Be Mentioned when she'd seen them come out of a toilet…forget armies, _black-mail_ was truly the most potent weapon of Middle-Earth.)

They were indeed shortly back with their group, and sat down not far idly chatting as the official talks were in reality not over yet. Daylight was dwindling when Fíli and Kíli stopped in front of Bilbo expectantly, wide grins splitting their faces. "I take it the talks went well?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Ooh, look who's playing coy now," Fíli teased.

"Shins," was the hobbit's only reply as he turned to say his goodbyes to Sigrid and Tilda before going to Balin.

"He can't keep using that threat forever!" Kíli complained under his breath as they followed him.

"Just stay out of reach, Kíli," Fíli reminded him. "I'm fairly sure I've got a bruise now."

Dwalin snorted loudly at them from his saddle. "Behold the Princes of Erebor – scared of a Halfling! What a joke!"

"Uncle, do you agree with Dwalin that Bilbo is a joke?" Kíli asked as he looked behind the warrior, grinning impishly as Dwalin immediately tensed and turned, explanation at the ready, and growled as he realized that Thorin was not in fact around them but at the gates already parting from Bard.

"What a joke indeed," Fíli drawled as they mounted their own ponies, smugly ignoring the warrior's nasty look. "Let us return home, Brother!"

"Yes, Brother!"

"Goblins."

Kíli just snickered at that. It was his absolute belief that Dwalin would kill himself rather than having to suffer them when Fíli would ascend to the throne (or opt for exile, as the less dramatic and not-so-permanent alternative). Yet he could not in all good conscience find it in himself to stop egging him on. Exchanging a look with his brother, he started a song to entertain them on the road back, teaching Bilbo the verses as he sang them.

It was dinner-time when they reached Erebor, and their companions were eager to hear all about their visit to Dale and they related everything over their meal in the great hall. A few songs in – actually, right in the middle of throwing a few grapes at a singing Nori (he was now officially a _ruined_ Hobbit in terms of manners) – Bilbo remembered his purchase at the market, but as he looked around for Bombur was surprised to see he wasn't there anymore. "Bofur, where's Bombur? Is he alright? It's not like him to disappear in the middle of dinner!" he asked with a worried frown.

Bofur took a break from playing his fiddle and raised his eyebrows, as though noticing only now his brother was absent. "Try the kitchens!" was his advice before he dodged a piece of bread and deflected another with his instrument.

"Will do," the hobbit replied as he grabbed his sack and made for the kitchens, easily finding the large dwarf and handing him the rosemary as though it were a contraband parcel, to the other's great amusement.

"Ooh, I have so many ideas to put these to good use! Thank you, Bilbo!" Bombur said jovially as he looked around carefully in case one of the other cooks was planning on stealing his brand new herbs.

"Why did you leave the hall? Nori's on a roll tonight!" Bilbo told him as he grabbed a butter roll from a nearby basket and started munching on it.

"Ah, that would be my doing, laddie," Balin told him from his spot on a bench by the door. He hadn't even noticed him there. "Thorin went straight to his study and knowing him, he'll all but forget about eating unless someone reminds him, so I asked Bombur if he could prepare a little something for our driven King," the kindly dwarf explained.

"Oh," was Bilbo's very eloquent response. Now that he thought back on it, he felt a little ashamed that he hadn't noticed Thorin's absence. Dwalin had been at the end of the table throwing his own fair share of food at their singing friend, so he'd assumed the King was around as well.

Balin sighed as he stifled a yawn. "Ah, lads, it's not easy, not getting any younger," he said with a shake of his head.

"What are you talking about? Balin, you'll bury us all!" Bilbo argued with a huff and a raised eyebrow.

Bombur chuckled at this. "You _are_ remarkably durable, Master Balin," he cheerfully agreed.

"Oh ho, what an impressive front I'm showing the younger generation!" Balin chuckled as he put down his cup and stood up, stifling a yawn. "That's my cue to bid you a good night before you witness me falling asleep in my seat and consequently realize how old I really am! Bombur, can I trust you with our King's stomach?"

"Of course!"

"Thank you. Evening lads!" he called as he turned to leave the kitchens.

"Evening!" Bilbo called back before turning to Bombur, watching him finish preparing Thorin's favorite – well, he assumed it was, because it wasn't what they'd all had for dinner, and it was a well-known fact that Bombur knew what everyone's favorite was. Two lasses from the Iron Hills passed by them with a big cake and Bombur's eyes trailed after it with longing and disappointment – knowing the dwarves in the hall, that cake would not survive long enough for there to be any left for him by the time Thorin's food was delivered. "Want me to take that to Thorin?" he offered spontaneously.

Bombur's eyes widened and he looked torn. "Oh, thank you Bilbo, but it's not necessary…" he replied bravely.

Bilbo chuckled and stood to grab the dish from his hands. "Go get your cake Bombur, I'll see to it that Thorin's fed," he promised as he shrugged his head to the side. A heartfelt thank you was his reply before the dwarf was out the door faster than most would think him capable of. With a fond roll of his eyes at dwarvish antics, he made his way to the royal quarters. By the time he realized he was actually heading towards Thorin's chambers, he was at the door and it was too late to turn back because he'd promised Bombur. Tapping his foot on the ground, he twisted his mouth thoughtfully before letting out a deep breath and knocking. "Thorin?" As he got no reply, part of him wanted to give up and go back, but then he figured that if the dwarf was in his office or the balcony, he wouldn't hear a tiny knock. "Come on Bilbo, what's one Dwarf after a fire-breathing Dragon?" he told himself as he tried the door, sliding in as it opened. "Thorin?" he called louder.

Thorin stepped out of a room with a worried frown. "Bilbo? Is everything alright?"

Freed from his crown and the heavy royal coat, he reminded him so much of the dwarf he'd followed from the Shire through innumerable dangers that for a moment he forgot his inner turmoil. For a moment. "Yes. Of course. Food," he said eloquently as he held up Bombur's stew. "Balin was worried you'd forget to eat. Bombur made it. I volunteered to bring it." When had he forgotten how to speak coherently?

"I hadn't noticed the hour was so late," Thorin mused as he relaxed and smiled at him, taking the bowl from his hands and stepping back to clear a space on his desk to put it down. "Join me for a moment?" he offered.

Bilbo nodded back and walked to the large windows, looking up at the winter sky. "Did the talks go well in Dale?" he asked conversationally after a short bout of companionable silence.

"Bard is an honorable Man," Thorin conceded, setting his spoon down and looking at him in amusement. "Although I suppose this is where you'll say you told me so."

"Me? I would _never_!" the hobbit protested for the principle, turning to him with a frown. "Preposterous!"

"I'm starting to think you've been spending too much time with my nephews," the dwarf noted with a pained sigh.

Bilbo winced, crossing his arms over his chest. "Please don't tell them that, I'd have to kick their shins non-stop to get them to stop grinning," he warned him.

"I would _never_ ," Thorin echoed jestingly as he walked to stand next to him, the both of them enjoying a few more minutes of quiet before he spoke once more. "Did you mean what you said today, or were you simply humoring a child?" he asked him out of the blue.

"What, about the Company being my family?" Bilbo clarified with a tilt of his head. "Well of course I meant it. It's got all the right ingredients, too: the hard-of-hearing and the caring grandfathers, the mother-hen, the scary cousins, the funny cousins, the uncle who always ends up drunken under or on the table, the insufferable nephews…" he listed with a grin. "And the reliable one who's holding it up together," he then added as he met his gaze.

"And where do _you_ fit in all that?" Thorin asked him curiously, the corners of his lips twitching.

The hobbit shrugged at this, stroking his chin. "The strange but somewhat charming distant relative no one had even heard about before but no one wants to see leave now that they know him?" he offered playfully. "Mind you, that's just an idea…" he added modestly.

"A good one," Thorin agreed with a small smile. "I am glad you feel this way. I realize that when we first met, we did nothing to make you feel like part of the Company – myself in particular, and for that I am deeply sorry," he started intently.

"Well, it's true that my first impression of you was nearly worse than all the others' combined," Bilbo conceded, his grin betraying his words. "But you made up for it. You all did. I'm even starting to believe that Dwalin isn't thinking up ways to kill me and make it look like an accident anymore!" he added brightly. "Unless he's looking like that because he's finally figured it out and is biding his time, that is…" He shook his head at that and frowned. "You're right: I _have_ been spending too much time with your nephews…"

Thorin laughed quietly at this, crossing his arms over his chest. "Relax, Master Burglar, I won't let Dwalin get rid of you just yet – Erebor might once again be in need of your talents in the future," he offered solemnly.

Bilbo only raised an eyebrow at him, fighting the urge to grin. "You, Thorin Oakenshield, are terrible at reassuring someone that their life isn't in danger," he deadpanned as he pointed a finger at him. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go pack so that I may make haste to seek sanctuary in Dale," he added with a mock-bow as he made a show of leaving.

"Now wait a moment," Thorin called with a grin as he grabbed his arm as he walked by. "A Hobbit seeking sanctuary in a city of Men? Truly?" he teased with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh it's quite alright, I've already sorted it out with Bard – I needed an exit strategy in case I ended up maiming a few dwarves," Bilbo informed him easily.

"Oh, and am I included amongst these potential victims?" the King wondered in amusement.

The hobbit laughed at this. "Funny you should ask, it's also what Bard inquired about," he remembered.

"And what was your answer?" Thorin asked as he still hadn't let go of his wrist.

"That remains to be seen," Bilbo quoted as he held his gaze. "That was…before we'd talked things out," he then added.

"And now?" Thorin inquired.

"Difficult to say. You get yourself on and off the list all the time," Bilbo replied truthfully. "I'm fairly certain such is your destiny."

"There are worse things in life," the King conceded with humor. "What is my standing this instant?"

Bilbo smiled despite himself. "Off," he reassured him.

Thorin nodded in satisfaction. "Good. It would be bad indeed for the line of Durin to go down in History as 'the one that was wiped out by the wrath of a Burglar-Hobbit'," he added, because Fíli and Kíli were certainly semi-permanent fixtures on that list and being aggravating was apparently hereditary.

"And with _that_ , you're back on the list!" Bilbo deadpanned as he pulled his arm back. "Why, if I didn't know you any better, I'd say that was your goal all along!" he accused as he placed his hands in his pockets.

"It is a good thing then that you _do_ know me better," Thorin replied with a raised eyebrow before he looked to the side thoughtfully and chuckled. "Had I known of the potential of Hobbits earlier, I would have visited the Shire long ago," he mused.

"Well, Fíli and Kíli would fit right in with my Took cousins," the hobbit agreed. "But most of us aren't able to leave the comforts of our homes, even to find a new one somewhere else. Not to mention that _most_ Hobbits would desert their house in terror if thirteen Dwarves invaded it without warning and raided their pantry," he added with a raised eyebrow.

"I am most fortunate that you didn't. Although by now I think I understand that you are, in fact, an exception even amongst Hobbits. Stubborn and hard-headed enough to put even Dwarves to shame," Thorin remarked as he reached to brush Bilbo's hair back from his forehead to check the wound he'd received during their final battle. There was just a small reddish scar left. "And with more courage than all of us combined."

"You make me sound much more fearsome and fearless than I really am," Bilbo denied with an embarrassed smile. "But I don't mind so much – it _does_ sound nice."

"Am I now off the list once more?" was the King's unashamed follow-up question.

Bilbo chuckled and shook his head as he stepped back. "I would have said _yes_ , but you've just earned that spot back by ruining the moment," he informed him after he'd cleared his throat. "Good night, Thorin," he said with a mock-salute as he turned to leave.

"Good night, Bilbo," Thorin called back, the amusement obvious in his voice.

Bilbo sighed to himself as he closed the doors to the royal chamber – and not a second too soon, because he had a feeling that if he'd stayed much longer, his 'legendary Hobbit courage' would have gotten him into trouble.

He had to stop spending time alone with Thorin.

* * *

 


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

In all the time Bilbo had known him (and they were now nearing a year and a half!), Fíli had shown to be serious in only three distinctive cases: during battle (obvious enough, anything else would have sent him to an early grave), where his family was concerned (Kíli or Thorin needing him would drive him to move mountains if it could help), and when he was expected to act as the Crown Prince (because he'd decided long ago that if it meant Kíli could remain carefree, then being serious every now and then was a small price to pay).

Kíli on the other hand only shared the first two with his brother – battle and family. Everything else had the potential for amusement. (And everyone else tacitly agreed his optimism was too rare a gift to be smothered.)

With that in mind, Bilbo was quite surprised to see them both walk into his quarters that evening, sitting down in front of his rocking-chair and practically bursting with excitation. "I was wondering what had happened to you two when I didn't see you at dinner! What brings you here?" he wondered with a raised eyebrow as he put his book down. He also resisted the urge to get up and did his best not to look uneasy, because the last time Kíli had caught him in the rocking-chair, he'd invented a game called 'let's topple the Hobbit over' and he ( _really_ ) didn't want a rematch.

"We had dinner with our uncle, in the royal quarters," Kíli replied, all wide grins and barely contained excitement. "Well come on, tell him!" he pressed his brother as he nudged him with an elbow.

Fíli absently swatted his arm away and looked up at the hobbit with a tentative smile. "Thorin has asked me to lead a delegation to the Iron Hills," he told him proudly – the Crown Prince showing through.

"And not just as a member – as the representative for Erebor and the Royal family!" Kíli added, obviously excited for two.

"Has he never asked you this before?" Bilbo wondered curiously.

"Not like this, no," Fíli replied as he shook his head. "I've accompanied him many times, but to be chosen for such an official task—"

"Without a chaperone!" added Kíli with a raised finger.

"—it's a great honor," Fíli finished, finally smiling as the news had seemingly sunk in.

"I'm very happy for you, Fíli," Bilbo said with a warm smile. "I have no doubt whatsoever that you will make Erebor proud. You've earned this recognition," he added earnestly.

Fíli nodded his thanks before frowning as he looked down. "But what if I'm…not really ready, in the end?"

Kíli turned to him incredulously at that, looking outraged by the mere suggestion. "Of course you're ready! You'll be the best there ever was!" he declared adamantly.

"I'm going to go with Kíli on that one," the hobbit agreed with a wink, grin widening as the prince seemed to relax and accept their reassurances. "So…when, and for how long?" he asked interestedly.

"We leave next week," Fíli replied – because of course he wouldn't dream of leaving his little brother behind. "We will most likely be away for a few weeks – three to four, depending on the weather."

Bilbo's eyes widened. "Do you mean to tell me we will have _three to four weeks_ of calm and quiet in here? I thought the day would never come!" he exclaimed happily.

In retrospect, he should have known teasing them like that would start a game of 'let's topple the Hobbit over' – at least he'd made them work for it and held on to the chair for as long as he could, setting a new personal record (not that he was open to another go – ever).

A week later, with seemingly most of Erebor gathered in the Great Hall to bid their Princes farewell, he'd had to let out deep sighs and blink repeatedly not to let his emotions get the better of him – only slightly reassured that there were many other misty-eyed dwarves around him.

He'd started disliking the calm and quiet the moment he couldn't see them in the distance anymore. The next few days only heightened that, and after a week he even found himself thinking that maybe he'd agree to another round of 'let's topple the Hobbit over' when they'd be back. Perhaps he could work out some discreet fastening belt to increase his odds.

0o0o0

Bilbo and Ori were snickering like children when they made their way into the dining hall that evening, pushing each other and going back to laughing when they caught a glance of the other's sorry state. In all seriousness, they realized that having almost been smothered to death by an old bookshelf was not in the least a funny affair, nor would it have made for a particularly dazzling tale had they effectively been hurt (or worse), but it _was_ pretty absurd in the first place, no one could deny that. And it was also most probably just their frazzled nerves that had them nearing hysterics.

"And what in the blazes happened to you two?" Dori demanded with his hands on his hips as he took their appearances in, wordlessly reaching to muss his brother's hair free of cobwebs.

"Nothing!" Ori quipped as he took a step back, taking care of his own hair.

"Dusty old libraries, you know…" Bilbo added as he ran his hands down his arms, tapping his vest and sneezing at the puff of dust that was consequently dislodged.

Dori rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed.

"Just a few shelves that fell down on us," Ori added as he shook his legs, sharing another look and chuckle with Bilbo.

"Indeed," said the hobbit. "Who knew Dwarvish literature could be so… _heavy_?" he wondered innocently before they started laughing again.

"And I thought I was done having to take care of dwarflings…" Dori muttered with a shake of his head as he directed them to the table. "Well go on then! Get some food in, perhaps that'll help you grow up!"

The two friends humored him and dug into their food with much appetite, all the while planning the work that they would be able to do in the coming days with their newly discovered stash. Other dwarves joined them for dinner as others left to have a smoke or a song or two in the common room. Ori was just in the middle of retelling their book-assault to an amused Nori when Dwalin sat down with his bowl.

The stern warrior snorted at that as he took in their appearances – although Dori's fussing had gotten rid of most spider webs. "It's bad enough Thorin asks me to protect you every time you're outside the city, I don't need you to start endangering yourself so much he'll tell me to follow you in here too!" Dwalin huffed as he put down his tankard before glaring at the hobbit – but without any real animosity, they all knew.

"What are you talking about?" Bilbo asked with a frown.

"Exactly what I said," Dwalin replied with a raised eyebrow. "Didn't think I turned up wherever you went for your pretty eyes, did you? You've got his Highness to thank for my charming presence!" he added with a grin.

Balin looked at his brother reprovingly but the hobbit only chuckled.

"And what a pleasure it is though, Master Dwalin," Bilbo assured him with a wide smile, always willing to push his buttons – and despite the warrior's narrowed eyes and affronted grunt, he knew that it was the only way to get on his good side. Purposefully toning his grin down, he got up from his seat and waved around. "On that note, I wish you all a good night!" he said before he left the dining hall. Passing by the entrance to his quarters, he paused in his steps and sighed, twisting his mouth in thoughts as he wondered what to do. He didn't have to think about it long though, because his legs automatically started walking and taking him to the royal quarters. Thorin seemed initially surprised to see him but stepped aside to let him in with a smile.

"And what brings our Burglar here?" the king asked him with a raised eyebrow.

Bilbo chuckled as he looked around distractedly. "Adventure, what else?" Before the dwarf could reply though, he spoke again. "Dwalin mentioned _you_ were the one to ask him to follow me in Dale?" he enquired quietly with a frown – well, not so much asked as stated, really.

Thorin was surprised for all of a second. "To keep you safe," he replied honestly, not bothering denying any of it.

"Why?" the hobbit asked seriously as he took a step closer.

"You never know what can happen in a city of Men," was the evasive answer.

"Dwalin's _your_ bodyguard," Bilbo reminded him, clearly unimpressed. "He's supposed to be by _your_ side."

Thorin sighed at this. "Would it placate you if I asked you to _please_ grant me the right to ensure your safety? With one I trust implicitly?" he asked instead.

"Wha— _no_!" Bilbo replied with a shake of his head before relenting. "Ye—maybe. _No_ ," he finally decided with a sigh. "I personally don't think that I need protection while walking around Dale, but if as the King you believe that the members of your delegation do, then I'll respect that. _If_ you talk to me about it first," he managed to explain himself. "I don't like having others making decisions for me – although I guess no one does."

Thorin eventually nodded, seeing his point. "It was wrong of me not to mention it to you, although it was not my intention for this to come across as deciding anything in your stead. I simply worry for you," he offered.

"Of course you do," Bilbo said with a small smile. "You're the King, it's your job to ensure your people's safety."

"I did not mean it like that," the dwarf noted as he frowned.

"It would be better if you did," Bilbo warned him with a sigh, no longer feeling like tiptoeing around the _real_ issue. Fíli and Kíli being away had seriously taken away much cheer from his life Under the Mountain, it made him tired of skulking around.

"But I didn't," Thorin insisted. "You always undervalue your own importance."

Bilbo's eyes narrowed and he shook his head, raising a hand to stop him. "Don't, Thorin."

Thorin raised an eyebrow at this. "Don't what?"

"Worry about me – be so nice to me!" the hobbit replied with much pent-up frustration. "You're making this incredibly harder!"

"And you're hardly making any sense – now I should not be nice to you?" Thorin asked in amusement, and either he was playing dumb, or he really was at a loss.

"Not _so_ nice, no – unless you want more than friendship between us," Bilbo finally spelled out.

This did kick the wind out of Thorin's sails. His eyes widened as he looked at his friend, and as the words finally registered, he looked down with a pained expression. "I am sorry that you—"

Bilbo sighed and crossed his arms over his chest defensively. "I didn't want to trouble you with this. But then I thought…I got the impression that…it might be mutual – wishful thinking, I guess…" he interrupted him.

Thorin's hands clenched into fists at this, but he didn't move. "Bilbo I…I cannot," he replied simply, even though it was obvious it pained him to do so, and he didn't deny anything. "I am sorry…"

"I know, I know; you're the King, and you're a Dwarf, and I'm a Hobbit, and I'm…well, _me_ ," Bilbo said as he gestured to himself distractedly. "We can ignore we ever had this conversation, don't worry – just, try not to be so nice in the future," he reassured him as he made to leave. He walked more slowly that he would usually have, just in case Thorin changed his mind and reached for him, but he didn't, and he was soon out of the royal chambers. Upon reaching the Company's common room, he sighed as he slumped down next to Bofur and gestured towards his pint. "I'll have one of those, if you don't mind."

Bofur exchanged a worried glance with Nori and Ori, but was quick in bringing him a nicely filled tankard of ale.

"How about you join us for a game?" Ori offered with a tentative smile.

"I'm actually playing by the rules tonight," Nori assured him as he shuffled the cards.

"Sure," Bilbo replied after nearly emptying his drink in one gulp. "I _love_ games," he said sarcastically as he sat up straighter. He might have let out a good belch, too, he wasn't sure – his manners didn't let him remember.

The other dwarves respected his privacy enough not to pry or call him on his behavior – and it just figured that he was still able to thoroughly crush them at cards. But they knew that unless Fíli and Kíli were back from the Iron Hills soon, they'd definitely need to talk to him.

0o0o0

After that one evening of drinking and a memorable winning streak at cards, Bilbo was satisfied to find he could still trust one of life's constants: drinks took your mind off things, however temporarily. At least he was in his own bed – undeniable improvement. Looking up at his ceiling with a deep sigh, he came to a decision: he would give himself a moment – that short moment until he got up – to feel sorry for himself and bemoan what could have been, but as soon as his feet touched the stone floor, that would be it. He hadn't really expected Thorin to react any differently – _hoped_ , yes, but he'd long ago accepted that expectations and reality are seldom the same. Thorin was the King under the Mountain, he had many more responsibilities and as such much less freedom. Bilbo didn't doubt for a moment that his attraction was mutual; they'd just both acted like it wasn't because it made things easier. They were both adults, they'd get over this – actually, getting it out in the open was the only way to achieve that, so at least that was done.

Closing his eyes, he counted to ten and slung his feet over the edge, hovering above the floor for a second before stepping down. There, done. His friends had been subjected to the poor spectacle of a rejected Hobbit last night, but they wouldn't witness anything out of the ordinary from him anymore. In fact as he reached the group for breakfast, he was relieved to see Nori and Ori, and promptly walked to them, clearing his throat to get their attention. "Hello Ori, Nori. I would like to apologize for my poor display last night…" he started self-consciously.

Ori smiled at him while Nori dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "Don't mention it," he assured him.

"You've hardly done anything worth repeating anyway!" Nori added with a smirk.

"Wow, thank you, coming from you, Nori, that is most reassuring! I am most reassured!" the hobbit deadpanned, but he felt a weight being lifted off his shoulders. "Did Bofur leave already?" he asked as he looked around for the third witness to his uncomely behavior.

"Yes – he's starting the work on that new shaft today," Bombur helpfully supplied as he placed a plate of eggs in front of him – and there was slightly more than usual this morning.

Bilbo resolutely fought against the blush that threatened to overtake his face as he hoped against hope that Bofur hadn't mentioned his strange behavior to his brother. "Thank you, Bombur," he mumbled before attacking his meal.

Bombur simply pat his shoulder in friendliness without saying anything, but in effect he might as well just have said something along the lines of 'don't worry, eat up, food fixes everything, even a broken heart'!

"Would you…want to see if we can salvage some more scrolls from the downed shelves today?" Ori offered tentatively after a short moment.

"That's a great idea, Ori," Bilbo replied with a small smile, feeling touched that his friend worried so but tried to keep their day casual – and slightly more annoyed at himself that he'd worried him in the first place. Besides, it was all too easy to lose himself in work – especially something as enjoyable as searching through the library. Most books were naturally in Khuzdûl, so he couldn't read them on his own, but there was still an extensive selection of Westron or Sindarin books for him to choose from – to his greatest amusement, he'd even found a book on Hobbit folk-tales, and he really wished there was a way to find out how it ever got there. Ori seemed to be walking on eggshells around him however, so after a few hours he sat him down and placed his hands on his shoulders. "Ori, you are a true friend and I'm really thankful for your thoughtfulness; however I _promise_ you that I'm alright, and you don't need to worry about me," he assured him.

Ori narrowed his eyes at him as though looking for any doubt, but relaxed after a few minutes when he accepted that there weren't any. "Well, if you're sure…" he started uncertainly.

"I'm sure," the hobbit said with a nod.

"…Alright then," Ori replied as he held his hands up in surrender, keeping his eyes on him as he returned to his pile of books. "You're really strong though; you know that, right Bilbo?" he added quietly but seriously.

"I'm a Hobbit," Bilbo said with a shrug and a smile. "We don't get to live as long as you do, so we don't waste time wallowing on what might have been." And if that sounded like an excuse, he stubbornly refused to acknowledge it, and Ori loyally pretended not to notice. A part of him also noted that the dwarf hadn't asked for more information, so he was either respecting his privacy, or he'd figured him out and therefore didn't need to ask – either option was fine with him.

They continued their work in companionable silence and a much lighter atmosphere, and joined their friends for lunch in the main hall when the hour came. By the time they were done, Bofur stood and stretched his arms loudly, pulling out his pipe and walking off towards the balcony, motioning for Bilbo to join him. "Let me tell you my friend, working in the tunnels makes even this Dwarf long for some open sky!" he told him with a wink as he lit up his pipe.

Bilbo chuckled as he mirrored him, looking up at the clouds. "I'm always longing for it, in a way," he admitted, enjoying the fresh air despite the cold.

Bofur studied him quietly at these words, puffing out slowly. "Is that what got into you last night – were you sky-sick?" he wondered with a raised eyebrow, but the smile pulling at his lips made it obvious he knew that wasn't the reason.

But Bilbo played along, puffing out a near-perfect circle. "I thought I could reach for it, and it would reach back. It didn't," he related simply as he watched the smoke dissolve into thin air.

"Probably because it's been so high up above for so long it's forgotten how to _feel_ ," Bofur ventured gently.

"I think it's more complicated than that," Bilbo huffed with a small smile.

"Not necessarily," he toymaker insisted with a shrug. "That or it's too full of clouds," he added matter-of-factly, grinning as this managed to pull a chuckle out of his friend.

"Clouds, huh?" Bilbo humored him.

"Oh yes – but the good part is a strong enough wind can blow the clouds away!" Bofur reminded him as he demonstrated this by energetically swatting his hand at the smoke he'd just exhaled to make it vanish.

Bilbo laughed at this despite himself. "Do you really think so?" he asked him quietly after a few minutes spent in silence.

Bofur's lack of immediate reply was proof of his honesty. "I really _hope_ so – that counts for something, right?" he finally offered.

"It does," Bilbo confirmed with a warm smile. "Thank you," he then added earnestly.

"Anytime," the dwarf replied simply. "Anytime…" And he meant it without a doubt.

0o0o0

Fíli and Kíli returned from the Iron Hills almost two weeks later – ten days, to be precise – and they'd made enough noise to alert all of Erebor to that fact. A great meal was promptly prepared to welcome the Princes back – because, as the Hobbit had quickly learned, Dwarves jumped at any opportunity for a banquet (and he didn't have any qualms about that, naturally).

Bilbo was inwardly very happy they were back – and only slightly more reserved openly – because as much as he hated to admit it he'd missed their antics and general silliness. He was glad they hadn't been there when he'd been turned down by Thorin however, as they would have noticed something was amiss and probably gotten involved; but now the situation had been (somewhat) resolved (if 'resolved' meant no contact whatsoever), so he welcomed any and all distractions they'd provide. He'd received his stone-crushing hugs from them both as any other member of the Company had the moment they'd stepped into their common room and that simple gesture had made him feel better than anything else in weeks.

"They might be the wind we talked about," Bofur offered quietly once no one else was within earshot.

Bilbo snorted at this. "Generally, hurricanes rather tend to worsen the weather," he reminded him with a raised eyebrow.

"Aye, but they clear up the skies like nothing else!" the toymaker insisted with a shrug before winking at him and walking up to help Glóin carry in a brand new barrel of ale.

Bilbo just watched him go with a fond roll of his eyes.

Not that the feast had been tame, but here, among close-knit friends and kin, the celebration continued on an entirely different level. Bilbo had stopped wondering long ago how dwarvish tables withstood these antics, besides they all looked too much a home for him to question it anymore. Kíli was all too glad to tell them exactly everything they'd seen and done in the Iron Hills, and while everyone was engrossed, Fíli came to stand by the hobbit, rolling his eyes comically at his brother's antics. The older prince then lightly nudged him with his elbow to get his attention and shrugged his head to the side. "Walk with me? I'd like a word," he asked quietly.

Bilbo nodded back at him and set his cup down before hopping down from his crate, wordlessly following him to his quarters. Once in, he automatically made his way to the balcony, stopping at the window as he saw it was lightly snowing outside. "What gave it away?" he asked curiously as the dwarf stood next to him.

"Oh, _you_ didn't, not right away. But my uncle can't really hide that well from me. I'm too familiar with his body-language," Fíli replied with an amused smile. "I'm sorry we weren't there," he then added more seriously.

Bilbo shook his head as he reached to rest a hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You shouldn't get involved; so it was better like this," he assured him. "Even if I did miss the two of you."

Fíli smiled briefly at this before frowning once more. "Would you…tell me what happened?" he asked in a tone that made it obvious he would not pry if the question was unwelcome.

"There isn't much to tell," Bilbo replied with a shrug. "I made an offer which Thorin refused. The rejection hurt, but in time I know I will stop thinking about it and move on," he finished surely.

"But it makes no sense! Thorin cares for you, I _know_ this – we _all_ know this!" Fíli insisted, truly confused.

The hobbit sighed at this, somewhat reassured – after all, until now, his belief that Thorin returned his feelings had been mostly wishful thinking, but he knew Fíli would not lie about this. "I suppose…his being a Dwarvish King and my being a Hobbit just makes it…unadvisable," he shared his theory.

"Why should it? The line of Durin is secure – in me, as well as Kíli! And Thorin would not be the first of our kings to take a consort from another race," the prince informed him. "At least you're no Elf," he added as an after-thought – he didn't mind Elves all that much himself, but he knew his people would not take well to seeing their king fawning over one (or even their prince, which made him worry for Kíli).

"And what of my being male?" Bilbo wondered with a raised eyebrow. "Among Hobbits it's unusual but not exactly shunned; it's more like it's viewed as a quirky trait of character. I've been wondering about how that's perceived in Dwarvish society – I haven't noticed any such couples, but I've also come to assume that Dwarves are simply more private than Hobbits in that regard since I haven't really noticed _any_ couples without being told."

Fíli shrugged as he turned to lean back against the window so they'd be face to face. "That assumption is correct; we do keep our affections mostly private. But you've probably also noted that there are very few Dwarrowdams, in comparison to Dwarrows. And in truth, many Dwarves are 'married' to their craft, so to say, and simply never seek out a partner. As such, we don't fault anyone for finding love, no matter the gender or race of the intended," he explained before chuckling. "Except for Elves that is – I guess we're still narrow-minded when it comes to _them_."

Bilbo laughed despite the serious conversation. "Small favors then, although I do have the ears," he replied with a small smile. "Still, I can't think the people of Erebor would be too impressed to see their king consorting with a Hobbit," he added thoughtfully.

"Don't be so sure," Fíli assured him readily as he moved a hand to his shoulder. "Everyone here knows that there wouldn't _be_ an Erebor to live in without you. You played riddles with the Dragon and risked your life to stop us from waging a senseless war," he reminded him intently.

"By stealing your most precious gem and giving it to your enemies – _Elves_ , among others," Bilbo countered with a raised eyebrow.

"No one knows this outside of the Company," Fíli said with a frown. "But my point remains: the people of Erebor respect you, Bilbo. Would you be the deepest source of rumors for a long while? Yes, most likely. Would some people resent you for it or be jealous? I cannot deny it, yet is that not common for consorts? But Thorin is their King and you're not just 'a Hobbit': you're a member of our Company. They'll respect _that_ if nothing else. Besides, people will always find things to complain and be unhappy about, so you should not let them hold you back," he told him honestly.

"Except _I'm_ not the one running away from any of this, Fíli," the hobbit reminded him as he gently squeezed the hand on his shoulder. "And I can't _force_ Thorin not to – nor do I _want_ to."

"Of course," the young dwarf replied as he hung his head. "I'm sorry I got carried away I just…I really thought the two of you would…I'm really sorry, I'm not helping much am I? Probably even making it worse…" he said dejectedly as he sighed deeply.

Bilbo shook his head at that. "You are one of the kindest persons I've ever known, Fíli, and I am ever so thankful to count you among my closest friends," he assured him. "I know you'll make a magnificent king one day – I have no doubt, and I only wish I could live long enough to see it," he added earnestly.

Fíli's eyes widened slightly at this and he looked down, obviously unused to such direct praise. "Thank you, Bilbo," was his deeply touched response. He opened his mouth to add something more, but the doors to his chambers nearly burst open and Kíli was pulling Bilbo into a bone-crushing embrace before he'd had any time to react.

"I made Ori spill his guts," Kíli informed them (and they mutually shared a sympathetic thought for poor Ori, who would undoubtedly be clutching his fast-beating heart in shock for a few days). "Why did you leave me out?" he asked his brother accusingly as he still held the hobbit to his chest.

"It's not like we deliberately left you out," Fíli replied with a frown, walking to close the doors so that their conversation wouldn't be overheard by anyone who'd happen to walk by the halls – stone corridors really carried sound quite well. "Besides, the three of us leaving together would have looked suspicious to say the least…"

Kíli seemed to accept this, gently patting Bilbo's back. "What is Thorin _thinking_? And here I thought with us out of the way he'd make his move – it even crossed my mind that maybe that was part of a plan!" Fíli's eyes widened and he frowned at him as he shook his head, pointing towards their friend. Kíli paled as he realized how careless his words might've come across as and promised himself to work on not putting his foot in his mouth so often so quick. "Bilbo, I am so sorry! You know I can't place a filter on my mouth!" he apologized as he tightened his hold.

Bilbo wheezed at the strength of the embrace but found himself chuckling half-happily half-nervously as he raised his hands to gently pat the arms around him so he'd let up. "Don't worry, Kíli. Thank you," he said earnestly as he pulled back to look him in the eyes. "I think I obviously fell for the wrong member of the royal family," he joked as he glanced between him and Fíli.

The brothers laughed at this and Kíli squeezed his shoulders. "Thorin is an idiot," he declared, with all the honesty and matter-of-factness of youth.

Bilbo snorted at that, not being able to deny it, but still being thoroughly amused. "Now don't risk getting accused of treason on my account," he teased him with a raised eyebrow. "Even if I _have_ been referring to him as the Fool Under the Mountain in my mind," he then confessed conspiringly.

"Quite fitting!" Kíli agreed with a wide grin.

Fíli smiled fondly at this but didn't encourage them any further by agreeing out loud – although inwardly, he certainly did! "Now _who's_ bordering on treason, Bilbo?" he jested as he walked to pour them all a cup of wine, since it definitely looked like they'd be there for some time. In his mind, a new idea was born, even though Bilbo had made it clear he didn't want any outside interference. He had to try anyway. He _needed_ to, or he'd regret it for the rest of his life.

0o0o0

The next morning, Fíli was expertly hiding his disappointment while Kíli wasn't nearly as discreet as they entered the meeting hall to discuss the outcome of their visit to the Iron Hills. Balin and Dwalin were present and Thorin's demeanor remained closed off, his tone even more clipped than usual. Although he did call them 'Nephews', expressed that he was 'proud', and had always been 'most confident' they'd see the mission through, the usual warmth he reserved for them was lacking, and he ended up dismissing them much sooner than he would usually have.

Fíli wanted to ask his uncle for a private audience then and there, but Balin had simply shaken his head discreetly at him, so he'd followed his lead – the old dwarf knew Thorin better than anyone after all.

"When are we talking to Thorin?" Kíli asked his brother quite seriously the moment they'd walked far away enough not to be overheard.

Fíli raised an eyebrow at him in surprise, although really he knew he shouldn't be – just as Kíli couldn't keep anything from him, neither could _he_. "The second he retreats to his quarters – we are meddling enough as it is, it would not do to have this discussion anywhere but in private," he replied quietly.

Kíli frowned at this, huffing as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Couldn't we ask him to go _now_ then? I don't think I can wait this long!" he insisted. "Surely he must know we've found out by now and are eager to give him a piece of our mind!"

"Surely, _that's_ why he's been avoiding us," Fíli noted dryly. And it was true; normally, upon their return, their uncle would have at least had them over in his chambers for a private meal, beyond the requisite feast. "Be patient, little brother, he can't avoid us forever," he reassured Kíli with a clap on his shoulder.

It turned out Thorin could certainly _try_ , but in the end of course, he'd never stood a chance. He let them into his quarters with a long suffering sigh, and moved to sit back behind his desk without a word.

Fíli thought for a moment than his brother would lose all patience and yell at their uncle, but Kíli yet again surprised him.

"Why, Thorin?" he asked plainly as he crossed his arms over his chest.

The sound of quill on parchment stopped for a second before resuming. "These are private matters, Kíli, even to my family," Thorin replied severely.

"Well I've never been good with boundaries," Kíli reminded him with a huff as he uncrossed his arms to place his hands on his hips. "And I'm not leaving until you explain why!" And he didn't even pout as he said that.

"We're just trying to understand why you're denying yourself some much-deserved happiness, Uncle," Fíli tried a different tactical approach in a much calmer voice. "You have our word that we will not meddle beyond this, so please help us understand."

Kíli's head snapped to him and he frowned, visibly unhappy at having been included in the promise not to meddle, but his brother sent him a warning look and he relented. "You have our word," he grudgingly repeated.

Thorin's deep sigh and rigid posture spoke volumes, and there was a tense silence for a moment before he finally spoke. "I must…first and foremost think of my people," he started, eyes narrowing as Fíli interrupted him.

"Oh please! You know as well as we all do that the people will talk no matter who you choose, and Bilbo has more respect than he seems to believe!" the crown prince started as he'd slightly lost his patience. "If this were really only about pleasing our people, I'd take over as king starting tomorrow, if it meant you'd feel free to follow your heart!" Shocked silence followed his words, but they all knew he'd meant every single one of them.

"You are not ready to be king, Fíli," Thorin replied simply after what seemed like an eternity. "And beyond the fact that this would mean getting involved with matters that do not concert you, it will not be necessary," he stated, keeping an unreadable façade as he would not let himself react to the hurt in his nephew's eyes at his dismissal.

"Very well," Fíli said quietly, looking lost in thoughts for a moment. "The caravan from the Blue Mountains is less than a month away. With our countrymen here to render your rule official, as per our laws Dwarrows and Dwarrowdams will feel free to court you," he needlessly reminded him. "I ask you to please grant us this: don't force Bilbo to bear witness to such a farce. He deserves better than that," he asked seriously as he held his look.

Next to him, Kíli glowed with pride for his brother, adding his own stare to back him up.

Thorin was torn between feeling surprise at such a bold request, or affection, but carefully hid both emotions as he slowly nodded. "Believe me when I say I do not wish for this either," he assured him.

"And yet _you're_ the one who's making the situation as it is!" Kíli couldn't help but point out.

"Will that be all, Nephews?" Thorin asked as though he hadn't said anything, clearly dismissing them.

"Obviously, Uncle," Fíli replied sternly as he bowed rigidly before leaving, Kíli right behind him. Suddenly he really realized why other races called them 'stubborn' – Dwarves like their uncle had clearly _invented_ the word!

"I know we promised not to meddle, but technically, threatening anyone who tries to court Thorin wouldn't really be 'meddling', would it?" Kíli wondered as he stroked his chin in thoughts.

Fíli chuckled at this, feeling much tension leave him as he turned to his brother and slung an arm over his shoulders. "No, you're right – it wouldn't!"

"Just checking," Kíli replied with a self-satisfied nod. At least they had that base covered.

0o0o0

As the date grew nearer, Bilbo found that he didn't even need to consult a calendar to figure out when the caravan from the Blue Mountains would get there: all he had to do was take a look at Glóin and gauge his excitement. A few weeks away from having his wife and his son back into his arms, the red-headed dwarf could barely sit still through any one meal.

"Ah, Bilbo! I can't wait to introduce you to my dear wife, and my lad! I'm certain you and Gimli will get along spectacularly!" Glóin insisted for the 136th time – yes, he'd counted. "Not to mention our kin from Ered Luin are much more pleasurable company than our cousins from the Iron Hills!" he added conspiratorially – for the 87th time, and _yes_ , he'd counted that too.

"I'm looking forward to it," Bilbo assured him indulgently as he cradled his ale. He turned his head towards some laughter coming from the side and grinned at Fíli and Kíli who were playing a prank on Bifur. "I must also confess I'm very curious to meet our trouble-makers' mother," he added. "I was sorry to hear she would not be joining this caravan, although both Fíli and Kíli – and even Thorin – seemed actually relieved!" he mused.

"Ah, the Lady Dís," Óin jumped into the conversation, all too glad for the change of subject as his brother had probably been talking to him about his family much more – and sometimes, it was actually nice to be able to tune someone out. "A fiery spirit, she is! And an iron will to rival the Kings of old!" he assured their friend. "Oh, I remember the commotion when she took a stone carver for a husband! Said she would have no other, and stood her ground before the combined efforts of her grandfather, father and brothers!"

Bilbo grinned at that, having no trouble believing such a thing from Thorin's sister, and Fíli and Kíli's mother. "Is it unusual among Dwarves then to marry below their station?" he wondered with a frown.

"Only for the royal family," Óin replied with a shake of his head. "And even then, as evidenced by our princes' presence, the Heart will get what the Heart wants!" he finished sagely.

Bilbo smiled at that, taking a gulp of his drink.

"We Dwarves do not find One we would pledge our life to often enough that others will ultimately not respect it," Glóin added seriously as he held his gaze , and something in his tone made the hobbit think that they weren't really talking about Dís anymore.

"Really…" Bilbo found himself murmuring. "And what if the other party is not a Dwarf?" he asked before he could stop himself.

"One only needs stand their ground," Glóin replied matter-of-factly, holding his gaze steadily.

"Dwarves do not abide uncertainty, but they respect conviction," Óin added expertly with a nod.

"I really wonder why everyone _else_ keeps assuring me of that," Bilbo muttered as he looked back down at his drink.

Glóin sighed, visibly not wanting to outspokenly judge his King; he did feel like rolling his eyes at his _cousin_ (because kin will always be kin no matter what) but in all honesty, he could only shrug helplessly at this. "It's more complicated than that, I suppose…" he offered without much conviction.

Bilbo chuckled despite himself, smiling at his friend's attempt to comfort him. "When is it not?" he wondered aloud as he held his mug for a toast.

Glóin raised his own pint to hit it against his, wiping his beard with the back of his hand after he set it back down. "At any rate, with some of our kin arriving to settle, Thorin will be further recognized as the King Under the Mountain, and things will start to move even faster!"

"Isn't he already?" the hobbit wondered with a confused frown. "Isn't he the King?"

"Aye, but it's a bit _more complicated than that_ ," Glóin added with a laugh. "See, the Men of Lake-town and Dale have acknowledged him as such, and so have the Elves of Mirkwood, but we Dwarves prefer to take the word of our people. The Iron Hills have pledged their loyalty to Thorin, but having more than one such recognition is traditionally preferred; so, Blue Mountains Dwarves as well as survivors from Erebor referring to Thorin as the King Under the Mountain will establish his position," he explained, his hands moving about as if to illustrate his point.

"After that it won't be long until delegates from the other great Dwarvish kingdoms come to build ties once more," Óin added as he distractedly picked at something that was stuck to the outside of his trumpet, nodding in satisfaction once it was gone. "Erebor will be getting quite busy, quite fast!" he foretold with certainty.

"I can't wait to see that," Bilbo replied honestly. His friends had repeatedly assured him the Dwarves from the Blue Mountains were livelier than those from the Iron Hills, and there would be more children around – and that was _always_ a good thing. Not that he was overly crazed about the loud, obnoxious, miniature devious creatures, but still: in the Shire there were _always_ children around, and he couldn't deny that they brought _life_ to a place – _any_ place. A loud crash almost made him jump in his seat and drew his attention to the left, and he sighed as he saw Kíli and Bifur on the ground with Fíli laughing above them.

Actually, perhaps they already had all they needed in terms of loud, obnoxious and devious creatures.

Yet he wouldn't change them for the whole World.

0o0o0

"Do you know some of the dwarves who'll be arriving with the caravan, Ori?" Bilbo asked his friend conversationally as he carefully put a stack of books back into a newly cleaned shelf – in Westron, but Ori had started sneakily teaching him the Khuzdûl alphabet so that he could at least help with classification.

"Probably, but only in passing," the young dwarf replied as he ticked a few mentions off his to-do list. "No good friends yet, unless they purposefully didn't say and are planning to surprise us," he added part wistfully.

Bilbo smiled at this, finding himself hoping for that scenario as well. Ori was a sweet dwarf – the sweetest he'd met – and it would undoubtedly do him good to have more friends around. He didn't ask about family, because he knew that the brothers only had each other, which only further strengthened their bonds – and Dori's coddling. "Glóin and Óin explained to me how having the Dwarves of the Blue Mountains recognize Thorin's rule would set it in stone, so to speak – if you'll pardon the pun," he added with a grin.

Ori laughed at this and picked up another parchment to write something on it. "I think it's a Dwarvish custom to complicate things," he joked thoughtfully.

"Tell me about it," the hobbit muttered under his breath.

"Take courting, for instance," Ori started off-handedly as he resolutely did not look up from his task. "Generally speaking it's only as tedious an affair as you make it. I mean there _are_ proper rules and traditions to follow, but essentially if two Dwarves want to be together, no one will stop them, even if they don't follow every unwritten guidelines. Dori tried to explain the finer intricacies to me once, but I got too scared to listen to the end. Then Nori summed it up in his own usual way…" he trailed off at this, grinning, but with a bright blush on his face.

"Let me guess: 'Ori, if you like someone, just stick it to them'," Bilbo ventured a guess in his best Nori imitation, sitting back on the scaffold he'd been using.

"Almost word by word!" Ori groaned as he shook his head, shoulders shaking in amusement. "Anyway, as I've always told them: we'll see about that if and when there'll be a _reason_ to see about that!"

"Wise attitude," the hobbit praised with a nod, thoroughly amused.

"But where the Royal family's concerned, now that's an entirely different business! Fíli and Kíli for instance don't have the same freedom…they constantly had to turn down suitors back in the Blue Mountains – particularly Fíli, since he's the heir." Ori's look darkened at that and he frowned in distaste. "It makes me mad that people would court someone just for their station, like they're not even a person!"

"They deserve better, I couldn't agree more," Bilbo nodded as he thought about it with a shudder. Did this mean that they would be getting suitors once more? He wasn't looking forward to that.

"I'm not looking forward to it starting again," Ori added, as though reading his mind. He then looked up at him tentatively before looking back down and taking in a deep breath. "Thorin will most likely start receiving propositions too. People had given up in the Blue Mountains because he'd made it obvious he wasn't interested, but now that he's King Under the Mountain, they'll try anyway…" he trailed off that, chancing another look at his friend to make sure he hadn't gone too far, sighing in relief when the hobbit only looked lost in thoughts.

"And how _does_ one go about courting a King? Or a Prince?" Bilbo asked quietly, rising to the bait.

"Gifts, usually; a reflection of your craft – that's if you're crafter, obviously. But there are many other ways to prove your worth; through deeds, for instance – like battle for one. Or, say…saving your life, or organizing an escape from an Elvish prison, or standing up to a Dragon…" Ori ventured with a shrug, desperately trying – and failing – to look and sound casual.

"And these are off the top of your head, I presume?" Bilbo teased him good-naturedly, grin widening at his friend's sputtering and stubborn refusal to meet his eyes. "Thank you. And I'm sorry Kíli picked on you the other day," he added, feeling responsible.

Ori shrugged as he sighed deeply. "Wasn't the first time, and I doubt it'll be the last," he said in a mock-resigned tone as he shook his head.

Inwardly Bilbo started to wonder if it wouldn't be worth it to have another word with Thorin. The dwarf had let him believe that he had turned him down because of their stations and races, but so far Bofur, Fíli, Kíli, Óin, Glóin and even Ori had assured him that neither should matter – and had all encouraged him in their clumsy way. Perhaps he didn't know how to leave well enough alone, but if Thorin hadn't been honest with him, then he didn't see a reason not to be confrontational.

After all if he had to be prepared to watch others court _his_ Dwarf, then he wanted to know that he'd done everything in his power to get him first.

* * *

 


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

Although their avoidance had been natural and mutual, now that Bilbo was looking for him, Thorin seemed to have become greatly adept at disappearing, as though he had a magic ring of his own. He'd had no choice but to go to his chambers one evening, and a (great) part of him was dreading a second rejection so much that he almost gave up, but then he figured he wanted to stop feeling like that, and the only way to achieve that would be to go forward. So he did. He knocked. Twice. And waited. For what seemed like an eternity. Thorin finally opened his door and although his eyes narrowed in surprise and his whole body tensed, he stepped aside to let him in. They then proceeded to stare at each other in silence for a few minutes, both obviously hoping the other would go first.

"This is ridiculous," Bilbo muttered as he rubbed his eyes. "Look, I'll try to make it as quick and painless as possible. And the only reason I'm even bringing this up again is because the others have been dropping me subtle hints, and I've got an update for you: Dwarves can't do _subtle_!" he informed him plainly.

"'The others'?" Thorin repeated with a frown. "Do you mean my nephews?"

"Including but not limited to," Bilbo replied with a dismissive wave of the hand. "That's not important. The question is this: did you really turn me down because you're the King and I'm a Hobbit?" he asked plainly.

Thorin opened his mouth to reply, most likely to confirm this, but Bilbo narrowed his eyes at him, silently warning him not to lie, and he closed it. Letting out a long sigh, he shook his head. "No, indeed not. That was just a convenient excuse," he finally confessed.

Bilbo openly gaped at him, as he'd expected this to be much more akin to pulling teeth. "But then why…?" He couldn't even properly word his question as he gestured between them.

They were back to a staring contest, and Bilbo was ready to ask his question again or perhaps threaten him when Thorin finally spoke once more. "The gold-fever…I am afraid of what I might do in the future should I let my weakness overcome me once more," he admitted with much difficulty, intensely disliking breaching this subject, for obvious reasons.

"I swear to you, Thorin, you'd better not be saying you're pushing me away to protect me from a _potential_ relapse," Bilbo warned him, doing his best to keep his tone quiet and non-confrontational as he took a tentative step closer. "You know how I feel about people trying to protect me behind my back."

But Thorin was not about to yield on this. "I held you above the battlements, with every intention of letting you fall to your death!" he needlessly reminded him. "How am I to look you in the eyes and claim to care for you when I did such a thing? How can I ever hold you and get past the memory of grabbing you for a completely different purpose?" he demanded, shaking his head as it seemed impossible to him.

"Because _I'm_ willing to!" Bilbo interrupted him calmly. "I'm willing to let that go – it's _done_. It's over, and I won't let things of the past control my future – neither should _you_!" he insisted earnestly.

Thorin's eyes widened and then narrowed as he raised a hand towards him. "I do not deserve you," he said brokenly as he pulled his hand back at the last second.

"Oh for the love of— _I want you_!" Bilbo finally exclaimed in exasperation as he'd reached the limits of his patience – and _clearly_ , the dwarf _had_ an uncanny talent in that regard, he had to give credit where credit was due! "Enough with your misplaced guilt and self-imposed punishments, Thorin! If you truly wish to insist on feeling that way, then as the offended party, the final word should come from _me_ – and I. Want. You," he enunciated clearly, leaving no room for doubt as he held Thorin's – definitely wide-eyed – gaze. The Baggins in him bristled at the thought that he was yelling at the King Under the Mountain – that just wasn't how proper Hobbits should act. The Took in him however told the Baggins in him to sod off or keep quiet, thank you very much, he was busy setting things straight with the Fool Under the Mountain. "Although I'm really starting to question my sanity on the matter," he added, because that was true. It was probably the dwarvish ale – a sly, slow-burning poison it was.

Thorin's eyes narrowed before he looked to the side, still not convinced as he shook his head. "You would—"

"Only one thing is relevant to this discussion, Thorin!" Bilbo starkly interrupted him as he fisted his hands in the rich furs lining the front of the dwarf's coat. "Is that mutual? Do you want me?" he questioned bluntly as he held his gaze.

Thorin choked on a chuckle as he shook his head in disbelief at being asked something so obvious. "You doubt this?" he asked him seriously, looking a mix between baffled and insulted.

"I wonder why," the hobbit replied dryly, clearly not moved and not letting up in the least bit.

"You will never cease to confound me, Master Hobbit," Thorin mused as he raised a hand to ghost his fingers over the other's curls.

"And _you_ still haven't answered my question," Bilbo insisted, undeterred, as he neither let go of him nor leaned into his touch. Thorin leaned down towards him, his intent clear in the way he looked at him, but the hobbit narrowed his eyes and leaned away, although he still didn't step back. "That is not an _answer_ , Thorin," he informed him smartly.

Thorin's frustrated growl did nothing to mask his aggravation, but a smile finally appeared on his face despite this. "You will be the death of me," he muttered as he moved his hands to the sides of Bilbo's face.

"A bit melodramatic, don't you think?" Bilbo quipped with a playful roll of his eyes.

"And yet undeniable," Thorin maintained with a raised eyebrow. "You obviously bring out the masochist in me, Bilbo Baggins, for I want you, regardless," he finally replied. When he leaned in this time, the hobbit didn't stop him, but rather tightened his grip and pressed back against him to respond to his kiss. "I want you," he repeated against his lips, barely stopping long enough to let out the words.

"Then have me," Bilbo replied with a sound that was between a moan and a chuckle – a sound that instantaneously became Thorin's favorite and one goal – while his hand had moved up to run through the king's long hair as the other kept them close.

"You make it sound so simple," said king breathed out as he moved his hands down to take a possessive hold of the other's waist.

Bilbo huffed at that, resisting the urge to roll his eyes once more as he pulled back to look at him. "It actually _is_ , you big oaf. _You're_ the one who's been making this complicated all along," he stated pragmatically, firm in his beliefs.

Thorin opened his mouth to protest indignantly (both at the accusation itself and the thinly veiled insult), but was interrupted without delay as Bilbo determinedly set to prove to him that _yes_ , it actually _was_ that simple.

In retrospect, his behavior that night had been all but kingly, and extremely improper – possibly even more than all the times he'd pretended not to notice as his nephews played pranks on unsuspecting (self-)important visitors.

He honestly couldn't bring himself to care.

"If anyone dares say to my face that Hobbits are gentle, proper, _innocent_ creatures ever again…" Thorin mused much later as he distractedly watched the embers as they died in the fireplace in his bedchambers. Every so often the burnt wood crackled and more embers were propelled into the room, flying about until they vanished. One or two had gotten dangerously close to his shirt – Bilbo had thrown it surprisingly far from the bed once he'd gotten it off of him, he thought with a smile – and he wondered if he should get up to move it away, but he was presently very comfortably settled into warm furs with an armful of hobbit, so he decided against moving; that shirt and any other clothing in the immediate vicinity could burn for all he cared.

Next to him, Bilbo chuckled at that. "Oh? Is that so? What _would_ you say Hobbits _are_ , in this case?" he asked mock-seriously as he absent-mindedly studied the beads that were in his lover's hair.

"Overbearing, devious, and positively mind-boggling," was the immediate reply – and really, the speed at which he said this just showed that Thorin had been thinking about that for a long time, and he owed up to it.

"Wow," said overbearing, devious and positively mind-boggling character replied unimpressed as he teasingly tugged on a braid. "Truly, Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, King Under the Mountain, they will write _songs and tales_ of your prowess in the field of _romance_ ," he mocked as he pushed himself up on the dwarf's chest to look down at him with a raised eyebrow.

"I seem to have forgotten to mention their blatant disrespect for kings," Thorin continued unfazed as he still watched the dying fire. "I am very well aware that you have on several occasions referred to me as the _Fool_ Under the Mountain," he quickly interrupted him with a smile and a raised eyebrow as he saw him sputtering indignantly, turning his head to look up at him. "Not very _proper_ now, is it?"

Bilbo chuckled and propped his chin in his palm, nonchalantly stroking Thorin's beard with his other hand. " _Undeniably_ not proper, indeed – but nearly always said with _extreme_ fondness," he assured him as he pressed a kiss to his lips. "And if anyone else ever calls you that, I'll set your nephews on them – _after_ having introduced Sting to their bums," he added absently as an after-thought.

"You would defend my honor," the dwarf noted in amusement, trailing a hand up the other's back.

"Why, yes, of course. See? This is me being _romantic_ – to help you give some shine to those afore-mentioned songs and tales," Bilbo drawled as he pointed to himself, raising an eyebrow in silent challenge.

The snort that Thorin let out at that was foreign even to his own ears, but he really did not care as he moved his hand to tangle it through his burglar's curls and pull him down into a kiss. He wasn't a man of many words, he'd always preferred to let his actions do the talking – and in true dwarvish fashion, this more often than not involved violence and so got him into trouble, but not this time. Presently, Bilbo clearly didn't seem to mind as he rolled onto his back and pulled him along. No, his Hobbit was definitely not a tame and innocent creature.

Thorin had never made a more enticing and satisfactory discovery.

0o0o0

When he awoke the next morning, Thorin wasn't even confused for a second to find the hobbit in his bed, although he did raise an eyebrow at his appearance. "You are already clothed," he noted quietly instead, voice still laden with drowsiness.

Bilbo's grin widened and he nodded. "Indeed – and may I just say: your powers of observation will be mentioned in _legends_ ," he assured him from his seat on the bed next to him.

"It's all for the sake of _romance_ ," Thorin replied confidently as he sat up so he'd be on eye-level with him. "Which brings us back to my question of why, exactly, are you clothed?"

"Because believe it or not, it's actually quarter to ten – I was supposed to meet Ori in the library almost an hour ago, and I'm fairly certain you most likely have some kingly duties to see to," Bilbo informed him, smile never diminishing.

"Well…" Thorin drawled as he moved a hand to run it into his lover's hair. "I suppose we did finish quite late…" he noted modestly.

"I'd say it was rather really _early_ ," Bilbo corrected smugly as he leaned back into his touch – and consequently, into his arms.

Thorin closed his eyes at this, merely enjoying the moment, once more noting how wrong he'd been and fortunate he'd turned out to be. It really was his luck that Bilbo was persistent and confrontational even when pushed away.

"I really should be going," the hobbit noted quietly, although he made no move to actually leave. "I'm quite hungry, and poor Ori is either worrying about my safety or blushing like mad because he figured out where I might be," he said in amusement.

Thorin chuckled deeply at this, letting him go. "I would have never guessed I would one day be turned down for young Master Ori of all people," he said mock-teasingly.

"If we are going to work, Thorin, you'll have to get used to being turned down for many things – including but not limited to breakfast, second breakfast, elevensies, luncheon, afternoon tea, dinner, and supper!" Bilbo informed him practically. "And maybe ensuring your nephews don't send themselves to an early grave," he added as an afterthought.

"Then you might also want to ensure they don't die of smugness," the dwarf huffed fondly. "For I have a feeling I will need to contend with much, _much_ smugness coming from them," he noted ominously.

"Most probably, and it'll serve you well," Bilbo replied with absolutely no compassion before pressing his lips to his.

Thorin sighed contentedly as he deepened the kiss, feeling grateful that 'the others' had mingled after all. But not that he would ever admit to it.

Meanwhile, going back in time just half an hour, one could have found Ori toying with his scarf nervously as he poked his head into the kitchen. "Bombur, have you seen Bilbo today?" he asked him quietly.

"I don't think he's up yet," Bombur replied with a shrug as he thought about it. "Better check his room," he offered.

"I did…" Ori mumbled as he walked to the common room, turning to Bofur. "Bofur, have you seen Bilbo today?" he repeated his question.

"Can't say I have," the toymaker replied as he finished his breakfast.

"What's the matter, Ori?" Nori asked with a frown.

Ori shook his head as he tried to dismiss it. "Nothing, I just…Bilbo was supposed to meet me in the library half an hour ago, and he's usually never late…"

"The poor lad's allowed to oversleep every once in a while," Balin noted easily as he sat down next to Dori.

"But he's not in his room…" Ori insisted, visibly preoccupied.

"Not in his room?" Bofur echoed with a frown, looking up as he was also starting to worry. "You don't figure…he could've left, do you?" he wondered despite himself.

"Now don't go jumping to conclusions," Dori gently chastised them.

"Yeah, he probably _overslept_ at Kíli's again!" Nori added with a sly grin, drawing much laughter around him because apparently _everyone_ knew about that incident.

As if summoned, the princes walked into the dining hall jovially but quickly paused as they felt the strange atmosphere. All gazes had pointedly turned to Kíli, and Fíli raised an eyebrow at this. "Is something the matter?" he asked carefully.

Bofur sighed and shrugged in a 'what-the-heck' fashion before asking, "Been keeping a certain Hobbit in your chambers again, Kíli?"

Kíli sputtered indignantly at this, looking at them all in turn. "What the— _no_! I'll have you know my sleeping quarters have remained Hobbit-free ever since that _one-time_ incident – during which, I would like to stress, _nothing happened_!" he replied as he crossed his arms over his chest, noting the names of all who smirked so he'd be able to deal some subtle (or not) payback later.

"What brought this on?" Fíli asked in amusement.

"Bilbo's nowhere to be found," Bofur helpfully supplied.

"What do you mean 'nowhere to be found'?" Kíli exclaimed.

"He was supposed to meet up with Ori, but he never showed up, and he's not in his room," Dori explained patiently, quite used to speaking to dwarflings and calming their over-working imagination down. In theory.

"He wouldn't leave without telling us, would he?" Kíli asked his brother fearfully as he grabbed his arm.

But Fíli never got a chance to reply as Ori buried his face in his arms on the table. "What's the matter, Ori?" he asked worriedly.

"It's all my fault!" the younger dwarf cried out. "Last night we were talking about Dwarvish customs, and I started talking about courting, because I wanted him to know that we all support him and that he's more than worthy of Thorin and then I said that once Thorin's recognized as King by the Blue Mountains, he'll most likely get loads of courting proposals and now Bilbo's gone and it's all my fault!" he insisted. "What have I done?"

Nori and Dori were by their brother in an instant, reassuring him that he hadn't done anything wrong and that on the contrary he'd been right to talk to Bilbo.

"Now wait just a second…" Nori started as he narrowed his eyes. "Has anyone seen _Thorin_ this morning?" he asked slowly, hand never stopping its soothing circles on Ori's back.

They all exchanged glances at this and turned towards Balin.

"Well, _I_ haven't, but that doesn't necessarily mean what you all seem to be thinking it means," Balin replied, never one to jump to conclusions.

"Well where else could he be?" Kíli asked excitedly.

"He could be gone! And it would be my fault!" Ori said with a cracked voice.

"Of course it wouldn't be your fault – it would be _Thorin's_ ," Dori reassured him gently, ever the voice of reason, as he handed him a handkerchief to blow his nose.

So caught were they in their debate that no one noticed the hobbit in question as he walked by the hall to go towards his quarters. When he emerged with clean clothes a short while later, he strolled into the dining room quite naturally and grabbed a plate for himself. He quickly realized something was wrong though. They'd all stopped talking in favor of staring at him, for one.

Then Ori had thrown himself at him begging him not to go all the while apologizing profusely.

The plate he'd been holding cluttered to the ground (luckily it was made of metal), and in the silence it echoed loudly as Bilbo gingerly pat Ori's back. "What's going on here, exactly?" he asked the others with a frown. "And why does he think that I'm planning on leaving?" he wondered as he shrugged his head towards Ori. No answers came as all eyes studied him carefully, before they all huddled closer and started whispering to each other animatedly, and he contemplated the possibility that it had finally happened, and they'd just all gone completely bonkers.

"You don't think…" Kíli started as he turned to his brother with barely contained excitement.

"Oh, I _definitely_ think!" Fíli confirmed, nodding slowly as he stroked his moustache.

"By my beard! About time!" Bofur drawled with a wide pleased grin.

"I told you so!" Nori insisted matter-of-factly.

"So you're not leaving?" Ori asked Bilbo as he pulled back to look at him hopefully.

Bilbo's confusion only grew at that. "Would someone _please_ start making some sense?" he asked in exasperation.

"Where were you last night, Bilbo?" Dori asked him bluntly with the practiced behavior of an older brother – to _Nori_ , no less, so he was _really_ practiced.

Bilbo finally understood what they were going on about, and although he desperately did not want to give them the satisfaction, he couldn't really fight off the smile that pulled at his lips – it was physical. "I do believe that is none of your business," he replied lightly before gently prying Ori off of him. "And I am _not_ leaving," he reassured his friend.

But then the room erupted in loud and happy exclamations, and Fíli and Kíli threw themselves at him, with poor Ori caught in between, and Bofur couldn't think of anything better to do than throw himself on them all on the ground. The onlookers briefly worried that one of them could have gotten wounded, but no cry of pain had sounded out, so they figured it was all good and kept cheering.

"So it's finally happened!" Dwalin bemoaned from where he stood by the door, having heard enough to deduce what they were on about.

"Not to worry, brother – at least the farce is finally over!" Balin assured him with a smile as he walked by him and pat his shoulder. "And it was about time…" he added to himself. And since Thorin should undeniably be in a good mood, it would be the perfect time to discuss those more… _sensitive_ issues that the king's dark mood had prompted him to hold back for as long as possible.

All good things come to those who wait, after all. And Balin had always been patient.

0o0o0

When lunchtime came about, Bilbo figured he'd best warn Thorin before he found out by having everyone looking at him knowingly once he'd reach the dining hall. Taking in a deep breath, he walked into the throne room where the dwarf was discussing with Balin and other advisors. He gave him a light smile when his presence was noticed but then just busied himself by studying the carvings all around – and trying his best not to look down, as even after a few months he still wasn't completely comfortable with heights. Balin and the others left not long after, with his friend giving him a wink as he did so. Clearing his throat, he turned back to Thorin, who was looking at him expectantly. "Hello," he said eloquently.

"Hello to you as well," Thorin replied in amusement with a warm smile. "What brings you here?"

"Well…I thought you should know – I thought I should tell you – the others know. Long story short, they all noticed we both…ah… _overslept_ this morning," the hobbit informed him.

"I figured as much when Balin gave me this _look_ ," Thorin mused as he crossed his arms over his chest. The 'look' that meant something along the lines of 'I never thought this day would come'. He honestly still didn't know whether to be offended or embarrassed. "So everyone knows…" he repeated.

Bilbo nodded as he wriggled his nose. "By now I'd wager so, yes…is this…is this alright?" he then asked with a frown, because while he most certainly did not regret anything, he didn't want to cause any issues for Thorin.

"Why wouldn't it be? I did not expect to be able to keep this a secret, and certainly not from our friends," Thorin replied matter-of-factly before narrowing his eyes as he stepped closer to him. "Unless…you would have rather they didn't know?" he asked seriously – and slightly apprehensively.

"No, of course not," Bilbo replied without missing a beat as he pointed a finger at him. "I just meant to warn so you won't end up thinking they've gone crazy! Or…well… _crazier_ than usual," he conceded.

"I believe that to be a perpetual state of mind for some of them," Thorin commented as he reached for Bilbo's shoulder with one hand to pull him closer. "Shall we go then?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Bilbo chuckled as he looked at him, leaning up to snatch a kiss. "Let's," he agreed.

Thorin smiled against his lips and moved his other hand to the hobbit's waist to keep him close. He meant to kiss him again but a badly concealed chuckle drew their attention and they turned to see Fíli and Kíli by the door, promptly hurrying back out when they saw they'd been spotted.

"Remember, they're your sister-sons and you love them," Bilbo reminded him smartly.

The king merely raised an eyebrow at this. "But _you_ can kick their shins all you want," he noted off-handedly, smile widening at the hobbit's innocent grin. "I like the way you think, Master Baggins," he praised, leaning down to kiss him one last time before they'd leave.

Fíli and Kíli, to their credit, looked every bit the innocent dwarflings they wanted others to believe they were. But their genuinely happy expressions betrayed their involvement, and despite his grumblings Thorin appreciated that. Their friends gave them knowing looks when they joined them for lunch, but he took it in stride, and they were also supportive to the last Dwarf – even Dwalin had merely grunted noncommittally instead of criticizing his bad taste as he'd supposed he would. Thorin knew that the rest of Erebor would likely not be impressed with his choice for a mate, but he truly couldn't have cared less – there was nothing on Middle-Earth that would make him give up on Bilbo, now that he had him. Still, Dwarves did not openly display their affections, and so for some time, no one out of their group knew. But with the caravan from Ered Luin growing ever closer, bringing with it prospective suitors, Thorin knew he had to make his lack of availability known. And he had just the plan…

0o0o0

Ori truly enjoyed his work in the library. Granted, his official function was 'Scribe to the Royal house of Erebor', tasked with recording decisions and events for posterity, but the library was still his favorite place to be in. Making an inventory of their books, reorganizing them…to many it was a tedious, boring and inglorious job, but to him it was captivating. Having a friend and assistant sharing his love of books in Bilbo surely helped to liven his days, in all honesty. And he'd been really, really, _really_ glad for his friend when he and Thorin had finally worked things out – even as he'd been really, really, _really_ worried whether he'd overstepped his bounds. Still, there was one thing he hadn't counted on when he'd tried to give Bilbo a nudge into the king's arms…

…It was that said king would then regularly visit the library.

Not that they _did_ anything, what with him being around – even if more often than not, he found himself using that excuse to go have a walk. But the library was _his_ thing – _he_ was the King of the Library, or well…in his _head_ he was…

At least Thorin was much happier these days, and consequently much easier to be around. He always greeted him with an amused smile, a dignified not and a, "Master Ori," to which he always put up his best front, nodded back and whimpered out a, "Your Highness," and bit back a formal request for him to stay out of 'his' library.

The life of a scribe was never an easy one…especially amongst Dwarves! Dwalin raised an eyebrow at him as he walked out of the library, and as usual they exchanged a nod, wordlessly acknowledging to each other that they'd rather be a good dozen places elsewhere, but were stuck being good friends.

Oh, the sacrifices one did for friendship…!

Bilbo grinned as he shook his head in amusement at Ori's antics, turning to Thorin with his arms crossed over his chest. "We must stop driving poor Ori away – this is _his_ place," he reminded him needlessly as he didn't climb down from the stepping stool he was on.

"I'll think of a way to thank him for his patience, one day," Thorin promised mock-solemnly as he wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him down into his arms. "Although I am slightly jealous he gets to spend so much time with you," he teased against his lips.

"You're welcome to spend more time in the library, provided you do some work," Bilbo answered right back matter-of-factly.

"Or you could spend more time in the audience hall with me," the king offered with a raised eyebrow.

The hobbit grimaced at this, not liking the idea and not pretending to. "It's not really for me – there's nothing for me to _do_ there, whereas here, I feel useful!" he argued. "And beyond that, I enjoy it."

"I know that you love your books," Thorin replied good-naturedly.

"Besides," Bilbo added mischievously as he stole another kiss, "we see each other aplenty at night," he stated off-handedly.

"That is true," Thorin was unable to deny, quite satisfied. He then decided to breach the subject he'd been skirting around for weeks. "That part would be made all the easier, if you'd agree to move into the Consort's chambers," he offered as he held his gaze.

Bilbo's first reaction was to frown. "But I'm not the Consort," he replied simply.

"One day you will be – or so I hope," Thorin said, undeterred. "Is the thought so terrible to you?" he wondered with a curious frown.

"What, marrying you?" Bilbo asked back with a frown of his own. "No, absolutely not – that thought is about as far removed from terrible as possible," he assured him factually. "I'm just…not sure I want to move into the Consort's chambers right away…I rather like my actual quarters…" he admitted. They were very lively, that much couldn't be denied.

"I will respect your choice on the matter – for now, a least," Thorin assured him with a smile, visibly relieved. "But then I must think of another way to make it unequivocally obvious to others what my intentions towards you are," he thought out loud.

"Well…what would you do if I were a Dwarf?" the hobbit pondered curiously.

"Declare my intent to your family. Although, as we have told _mine_ , we are, in fact, betrothed," Thorin replied as he thought about it. He then slowly smirked as he revealed the scheme he'd hatched on the matter. "It is my belief however, that with a few carefully placed words here and there, the news could spread on its own."

"Oh, I'm sure Nori, Glóin or Bofur would be happy to help with _that_!" Bilbo surmised with a happy grin.

"Surely, yes," Thorin mused before his eyes trailed to his lover's chest. "Dáin actually assumes that we've been courting for a long time, ever since he realized that I gave you the mithril shirt," he informed him.

"Oh, so that's why he was always looking at me like I was the funniest thing he'd ever come across!" Bilbo finally realized, glad to have solved that mystery. "Then…do you think everyone in the Iron Hills assumes the same?" he wondered.

The dwarf shook his head at that. "No, Dáin would not declare this without my affirming it to him."

"Well, there's our way of letting the Iron Hills know," Bilbo pointed out easily.

"Indeed…I shall send a raven with all haste," Thorin noted as he pressed another kiss to his lips, very satisfied. Just a few well-placed rumors with the help of their friends, and all of Erebor would know, and just a raven to his cousin, and all of the Iron Hills would know. This ensured that when the caravan from Ered Luin would finally get there, it wouldn't take them long to hear from one dwarf or the other about their King's engagement. Problem solved!

Nori, Glóin and Bofur were, in all honesty and as could be expected, thrilled to be given this opportunity to _accidentally_ let words slip and give birth to new rumors that caught like wildfire. Ah, the power of gossip! All they had to do was sit back and enjoy as soon enough, every Dwarf under the mountain and quite a few Men of Dale talked only of how Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thráin, son of Thror, was betrothed to the Burglar-Hobbit Bilbo Baggins of the Shire.

Despite an initial slight backlash born primarily of disbelief, the reactions hadn't been as extreme as they'd feared – Fíli had been right in saying that Bilbo was more than just 'a Hobbit', everyone knew his role in reclaiming the city and respected him for it. Not to forget the immense deference they had for Thorin, not just for having given them back their homeland, but for everything he'd done for them since they'd lost it in the first place. And since he already had heirs in Fíli and Kíli, effectively there wasn't much for the Dwarves to really complain about. So it didn't really change things much. Except that Bilbo made an effort to go to the audience hall or Thorin's study equally, and Ori happily got his library back – most of the time.

All was well in Erebor.

Then the caravan arrived and the city came to life in a whole new way.

Naturally, another feast was planned.

"Dreadful tradition, really..." Bilbo mocked happily as he walked around the busy halls.

"Oh, yes!" Bofur snorted next to him. "Dreadful prospect for you, I'm sure!"

"Oh well...no way around it, I suppose," the hobbit noted with perfectly faked resignation.

"Nope," his friend agreed. "I bet I can peel more potatoes than you!" he then challenged off-handedly.

Bilbo chuckled darkly as turned to look at him. "I will make you _eat_ those words, my friend," he warned him sweetly.

Bofur sighed as he pressed a hand to his heart and wiped an imaginary tear from his face. "You've grown into such a _Dwarf_!"

The hobbit could only laugh at this.

All was _ever_ -so-well in Erebor.

0o0o0

In the days following the Caravan's arrival, Bilbo found himself the subject of many discussions and the center of observation for the recently settled dwarves of the Blue Mountains – as they'd surmised. The frenzied voices only dropped in volume when he turned to look at the gossipers, but the talks themselves never stopped. At least, they were just words. Sideways glances and pointing fingers he'd already gotten used to, the only real novelty was that now, Dwalin was following him around, and he very honestly wasn't sure which one of them was the least pleased with that arrangement. They'd managed to go the first day without ending up in each other's faces, so that was a good sign – even if Ori had spent every moment dreading such a confrontation. But it was hard to say who was happiest about dinnertime finally rolling by.

"After you," Bilbo said smartly as he stopped by the door to let Dwalin through. At the tall dwarf's annoyed glare, he rolled his eyes. "We're here, it's dinnertime, I'll be safe, and I _need_ to walk a few steps without feeling your eyes glaring daggers in my back!" he stood his ground.

Dwalin made that noise where it was obvious he was holding back an amused snort, and simply looked down at him as he walked by imperiously, all the while muttering about 'blasted Halflings'.

Bilbo just grinned smugly as he followed him, stopping in his steps at the noise that suddenly assaulted his ears as Glóin beckoned him closer.

"Ah, there he is – there's our Hobbit! Come along Bilbo, come along!" Glóin said jovially, clamping a hand on his shoulder once he was close enough. "This is my lad, Gimli!" he presented proudly as he turned to show a young dwarf who half nervously stood up.

Bilbo wondered what the others could have possibly told him that he'd be nervous in front of _him_. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Gimli," he said warmly anyhow as he held out his hand to him. "Your father has told me a great deal about you!"

"It's an honor, Master Bilbo! I have heard so much about you!" the dwarfling replied excitedly as he shook his hand energetically.

A shiver of dread ran through the hobbit at this, as he knew very well the predilection for stories spun out of hand that his friends had. "Not all of it's true," he replied for good measure, nearly stumbling as Glóin laughed heartily and clapped his back.

"Modest as ever, our Bilbo!" Nori mused as he wiggled his eyebrows at him – not very reassuringly so, since Nori was after all the biggest story 'improver' of them all.

"You're the one whose tales have the least bit amount of truth in them, Nori!" Ori boldly told his brother – friendship pulled out his brave side.

"Hey now, these accusing words hurt me inside, little brother!" Nori replied among the laughter.

"It's called 'truth', Nori, you might as well start getting used to it – you'd only be a century late!" Dori said next to him as he shook his head at him.

"How was the journey, Gimli?" Bilbo asked as he turned to Gimli in favor of ignoring the bickering brothers.

The dwarfling sighed wearily before shrugging. "A caravan moves at a slow pace, the journey wasn't very exciting," he replied simply. "It was surely nothing compared to yours!" he added as he looked at them with barely concealed envy and respect.

"You're safe and well, lad, and that's what's important!" Óin told his nephew as he clapped his back.

"Aye, and you're still young – you'll have plenty of time to go on adventurous journeys later on!" Glóin added as he passed the ale around.

"I hope so!" Gimli replied with much enthusiasm.

Bilbo winced at this – as if they needed another reckless dwarfling to give the princes bad ideas! As though summoned by this thought, Fíli and Kíli nearly burst through the door as loudly as they always did, as though it was their mission to be _heard_ all over Erebor. Bilbo was only half-surprised to find he didn't even wince anymore.

"Oh, Bilbo, I almost forgot! I've got a new coat ready for you to try on – for the feast!" Dori said excitedly as he caught his attention.

"New coat? The feast?" he repeated in confusion.

"The big feast – to celebrate our reunion with our kin," Bombur helpfully supplied, smiling serenely as he mentally anticipated it.

"Oh, yes, I'd heard about that," Bilbo remembered as he twisted his mouth. "But what's this about a new coat? The one you made me last time is still in excellent shape, I assure you!" he said with a frown.

Dori shook his head at him as though he was missing the point – _sorely_ so. "You're betrothed to the King now, you must look the part!" he told him quite simply.

"But—"

"You must."

"I don't—"

"You must, Bilbo," Dori insisted sternly, to the others' great amusement. "I've made it a bit more dwarvish in style, this time," he then informed him.

"Uncle will love it!" Kíli replied with a wide grin, the insufferable troublemaker that he was.

"Not to forget the last time you wore that other coat, you ended up in Kíli's bed – not the finest reminder!" Fíli added, obviously choosing not to be wise and untroublesome.

"Alright, you asked for it!" Bilbo said simply as he kicked Fíli's shin with all his strength. He then realized, amidst his satisfaction, that Kíli was too far for him to hit as well. "Ori, shins!"

Ori's eyes widened for a second before he understood the message, and he didn't even need to think about the implications too hard as he kicked Kíli's shin. "That's for all the pranks you've played on me!" he said simply, reaching a hand across the table to shake Bilbo's.

"Beware the librarians!" Bofur exclaimed as he roared with laughter while the princes stared at Ori incredulously – and at Bilbo ruefully.

Dwarves were obviously such a bad influence!

0o0o0

Over breakfast the next morning, Dori reminded Bilbo to stop by his shop to try his jacket before he left, and the hobbit sent a pleading look to Ori. "Please don't leave me alone with him," he appealed to his better side half-seriously.

"Alright, alright…" Ori replied easily – after all, the weariness of Dori was something he could very well relate to.

They finished their meal while talking animatedly with the others, and then made their way to the commercial district to Dori's cozy shop. It wasn't very big, and having seen it empty, Bilbo was still surprised by the amount of fabric that fit in it. Dori had apparently been a weaver and tailor of certain renown in Ered Luin, and even though he – like all members of the Company – did not really need the money, he enjoyed his work and had elected to have this small space to create custom requests. (His brothers however remained his main victi—recipients.)

Dori promptly abandoned the button he was sewing on a tunic as they walked in, and beckoned the hobbit closer before handing him his newest creation with the instruction to 'try it on with all haste – if you'd please'.

Bilbo shared an amused look with Ori but did as he was told. Dori _was_ talented, that much he could not deny. The jacket was beautiful, and the rich fabric felt light when he shrugged it on. It was still a hobbit-like jacket the likes of which he'd always worn, but indeed as Dori had said there was a dwarvish influence in the cut and patterns, particularly the linings and collar. "It's beautiful craftsmanship as always, Dori," he praised his friend honestly.

Dori nodded his head modestly even though he reveled in the praise. "Oh, the Durin blue does suit you very well! Now it just needs a fine cape thrown over it and the look will be complete!" he added.

" _Durin_ blue?" Bilbo repeated in confusion.

"It's the color of the House of Durin's line," Ori replied as he turned around him to look at the garment. "It really does suit you!" he said with a smile.

"Thank you," Bilbo replied automatically before frowning as he thought on his words and turned to the other dwarf. "But wait…the other jacket you made me is also that blue, but back then I wasn't…Thorin and I weren't…"

Dori cleared his throat at this as he seemed slightly embarrassed. "Well it…I might've been a bit…overly optimistic, shall we say?" he asked self-consciously.

"And everyone but me knew about the color's significance I take it?" the hobbit wondered with a raised eyebrow, thinking back on that evening and all the Dwarves who'd pointed at him, remembering that even Thorin had complimented the color – he'd have a word with him on that, later on.

Ori grinned at this as truly, his older brother being so flustered was a very rare sight.

"Thank you, Dori," Bilbo replied simply, putting his friend's mind at ease.

"Oh, it's my pleasure, my lad," Dori immediately assured him as he returned to studying the jacket critically. "The collar still needs a final adjustment – I keep forgetting how thin a neck you have! – but that shan't take long. I promise you'll have it well on time for the feast!"

Bilbo reiterated his thanks and then he and Ori were all but shooed out of the shop by a still flustered Dori. But true to his word, the dwarf worked fast and by the time they'd started getting ready for the feast, he'd received the final version of the jacket and had happily put it on, thanking his friend once more. He'd felt slightly self-conscious as he entered Thorin's quarters, now that he knew he was essentially parading _his_ color, but the king's appreciating look as he saw him dissipated this immediately.

"Dori insisted I needed a new jacket," the hobbit informed him as he played along and turned around on himself. "He _is_ good though, that can't be denied," he then added fairly, because he really didn't want to sound ungrateful.

"Indeed not," Thorin agreed as he smiled to himself before walking to him and reaching for the clasp that held his cape over his shoulders. Wordlessly, he removed it and then secured the fabric back in place with his own pin.

"That's _your_ brooch," Bilbo noted unnecessarily. "People will know," he stated matter-of-factly.

"Good," was Thorin's smug response as he made sure it was correctly fastened, smoothing the cape over his shoulders once he was done.

"For your sake, I really hope you're not likening me to a possession," Bilbo said seriously with a raised eyebrow.

Thorin's smile widened at that. "Of course not. But staking my claim is not overstepping my boundaries, is it?" he asked casually.

"Tread carefully, Thorin Oakenshield," Bilbo warned him simply as he tilted his head up to snatch a quick kiss. "Tread very carefully."

Thorin reached to pull him closer when a loud knock on the doors resounded. Sighing at his nephew's usual impeccably bad timing, he called for them to come in.

"We're not interrupting, are we?" Kíli asked with the widest arse-faced grin there ever was.

"If we said yes, would you leave?" Bilbo asked back unfazed.

Thorin could have kissed him at this. Actually, he did. It was a bit disappointing that Fíli and Kíli just cheered instead of leaving though, but it was also quite heartening, in a way.

Bilbo grinned at him as he pulled back, and as he glanced at the princes he frowned as he noticed something was amiss. "Kíli, your cape's inside-out!" he noted exasperatedly as he walked to him to fix this.

Fíli laughed at his brother's embarrassed face and then noticed Thorin shrugging his head to the side, motioning for him to join him. "Yes, Thorin?" he asked curiously as he reached him.

Thorin seemed to be unsure what to say – or _how_ to say it, really – for a short moment before he realized that simple and honest was the best way to go. "I owe you an apology, for the way I reacted to your most generous offer, some time ago," he started as he held his surprised gaze. "It was unworthy of me, and I would like you to know that I am both extremely grateful and proud that you offered," he finished as he tilted his head in a subtle bow.

Fíli's eyes widened and he cleared his throat to catch his composure, smiling brightly. "I…well…thank you," he replied, visibly at a loss and speechless – for once!

In the background, Bilbo was still fussing over Kíli because apparently he hadn't only messed up his cape.

Thorin's grin widened at this, before he placed his hands on Fíli's shoulders. "I know your father would also be proud of the Dwarf you have become."

"I may not have many memories of him, but I do remember you threatening him – regularly," Fíli recalled with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, after all to me he was always only the dwarf who was after my dear sister's virtue – a goal that he did reach, despite my many attempts to scare him away; it was my duty as brother to make sure he understood the risks and consequences," Thorin reminded him, staying serious for all of a second. "And yet for all my grievances against him, I have never denied that he fathered two worthy sons – with a little help from Dís, naturally. My life would have been much different without the two of you in it," he said quietly as he held his nephew's gaze.

Fíli smiled at this, truly touched as he rested his hands on his arms. "It's always been an honor, Uncle," he replied earnestly.

"The honor is all mine, Nephew," Thorin assured him as he touched his forehead to his.

Bilbo smiled to himself as he watched them, grinning as Kíli crossed his arms over his chest next to him. "Now I feel left out," the dark-haired prince said with a pout.

"Don't look at _me_ , your uncle's the one being unusually affectionate tonight," Bilbo dismissed with a shrug.

Kíli merely raised an eyebrow as he turned to look at him seriously. "You're my uncle too, now," he remarked casually with a small grin.

Bilbo chuckled at this, looking at him with much amusement as he never ceased to surprise him. "I'm younger than you," he reminded him.

"I'm a young Dwarf," Kíli started unfazed as he pointed to himself. "You're a middle-aged Hobbit," he continued as he pointed to him. "And you're involved with my uncle – face it: me and Fíli are your adorable nephews now," he finished matter-of-factly.

"Fíli and I," Bilbo absently corrected, his smile turning fond as he looked at him, all smug about his spiel. It was impossible not to give in. "Alright, but don't call me _Uncle_ – that's Thorin's privilege and I know for a fact he's rather fond of it," he replied as he pat his head.

"Yes, Bilbo!" Kíli replied dutifully before he moved to gently tap his forehead to his. "For now let's get to the feast! They can't get started without the Royal Family after all!" he commented as he rested his hands on his hips and struck a pose that he somehow envisioned as 'royal'.

Bilbo decided to go the diplomatic approach and silently humored him.

"Not to mention some might riot in famine if we take too long," Fíli added as he and Thorin walked back to them. "Or eat it all without leaving anything for us!"

"Come on Fíli, we should sneak by the kitchens to make sure they haven't been assaulted yet!" the younger told his brother as they went ahead.

Bilbo grinned as he watched them go, leaning back into Thorin's arms with a contented sigh as the dwarf pulled him closer. "What was that about?" he wondered absently as he idly placed his hands atop the ones around his waist.

Thorin smiled to himself as he looked down to meet his gaze. "I was simply giving Fíli proper credit for something he did some time ago. In my pride, I did not properly acknowledge him for it the last times we spoke," he replied quietly with an air of mystery. "And what was that about with Kíli?" he then asked teasingly.

"He called me a middle-aged Hobbit," Bilbo informed him with a twist of his mouth before grinning. "And then he proclaimed Fíli and himself to be my – and I quote – _adorable nephews_."

"And what are your thoughts on his words?" Thorin asked him as he moved a hand under his chin to tilt his face up and back so he could see him better.

"That I _am_ a middle-aged Hobbit," the burglar replied with a frown before quickly moving to steal a kiss from his King. "And that I couldn't ask for more exasperatedly lovable nephews," he murmured against his lips. "Their uncle's not so bad, either," he then added as though it were an after-thought.

Thorin chuckled at this and gave his waist a last squeeze before reaching for his hand. "I have a feast to get started – and then we can go back to further discussing your last statement," he offered suavely with a raised eyebrow.

"Perfect. Couldn't have said it better myself," the hobbit agreed as he let himself be led away. Once they left the Royal quarters, he pulled his hand back and was surprised to see that the brothers had opted to wait for them by the hall's doors.

Fíli gave him a gentle nudge with his elbow, and winked at him as he turned to him questioningly. "You look great, _Uncle_ ," he compliment with a warm grin. "Nice brooch," he then added teasingly.

"Thank you," Bilbo replied innocently as he shook his head in amusement and absent-mindedly reached to rearrange one of the prince's loose braids that had escaped its spot. "And so do you, _Nephew_ ," he replied softly before shrugging his head towards the stairs so they'd get going. "Don't dally now, I'm hungry," he mock-ordered. He then let the Royal family enter on their own as was proper – and smiled widely at the way Thorin had looked at him with much promises for later when they'd be on their own.

Promises that the King naturally honored (twice) as soon as the feast was over. His breath winded and his face split by a bigger grin than he'd thought possible at his age, life felt _good_ , and since Thorin's disheveled appearance clearly mirrored the way he felt, well…then life was just _perfect_.

"So what happened with Fíli, really?" he asked after a moment, his hands distractedly stroking Thorin's hair.

Thorin grinned but didn't move his head from its place on his chest. "Mentioning another while we're in bed – now correct me if I'm wrong, but that should count as treason," he teased gruffly.

Bilbo snorted at that, surprised as he felt his grin widening – he hadn't thought it possible. "Yes, because Fíli of all people is definitely a threat to you," he deadpanned.

"Oh? Good to know, then! How about Kíli? Since you already spent the night with him once," the insufferable dwarf goaded, his tone making it obvious that he wasn't serious.

The hobbit groaned as he pulled his hands back and ran them through his own hair. "How did you even—I'm going to kill that rascal—we said we'd never—why do I even put up with the sons of the line of Durin?" he wondered as he glared in the general direction of Kíli's room as though he could somehow get him to fall from his bed or stump his toe against something – or choke on his hair, alternatively.

"It's probably because you can't resist our charm," Thorin replied modestly. "And as to how I know, aside from the fact that I _saw_ you leaving Kíli's chambers quite early in the morning, do you really think anything happens in my kingdom without my knowing? Particularly when it happens in my youngest nephew's room?" he asked with a raised eyebrow as he pushed himself up on his forearms and moved to hover above his face.

"I have nothing to say in my defense, your Highness," Bilbo replied as he leaned up to kiss him before letting his head fall back into the pillow. " _Kíli's_ definitely more my type though – tall with dark hair and all that," he started off-handedly.

"Right," Thorin said, unimpressed.

"Oh, absolutely. But then _Fíli's_ got those _eyes_ – I've something of a weakness for blue eyes," Bilbo continued contemplatively before looking up at him as though in surprise. "Hey, yours are similar!" he said as if he'd just realized this.

"You are evil, Bilbo Baggins," Thorin insisted as he smiled at him, leaning down to kiss him.

"You brought this on yourself, Thorin Oakenshield," the hobbit mumbled smartly against his lips. "So. Fíli?" he asked again with a raised eyebrow.

"Relentless as ever. Very well…" Thorin gave in as he took in a small breath and stroked the side of his face. "Back when…I let you believe that I was pushing you away because of our respective stations and races—"

"Fool Under the Mountain," Bilbo interrupted teasingly. "You were saying?" he asked innocently with a curious frown, effectively silencing Thorin's retort.

Thorin shook his head fondly but did continue as though he hadn't been interrupted. "Fíli offered to take the throne earlier, so that we…would not need worry about what others might say."

All playfulness left Bilbo at this and he glanced towards Fíli's room, feeling incredibly touched. "He did…?"

"He did," Thorin confirmed. "My response in that original conversation was not as appreciative as it should have been," he confessed as he absently trailed his fingers on his chest.

"Let me guess: where did you get such an idea, you aren't ready to be King, don't meddle into other people's private affairs, who even told you, that won't be necessary—" Bilbo started listing matter-of-factly.

"Yes, you obviously…know me well," Thorin gently interrupted him with a raised eyebrow, amused despite himself. "I just felt it necessary to set things right. Tell him how much his support means, and how proud of him I am – how proud I've always been."

Bilbo smiled at this, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear. "Sounds about right," he murmured contentedly as he moved his hand to the back of his head and pulled him into another kiss.

When he saw Fíli the next day, he could not resist drawing him into a hug. The prince seemed confused for all of a second before he deduced the reason and smiled modestly, trying to deflect the praise. Bilbo didn't let him.

And then he gently cuffed his head, berating him about having tried to put other people's happiness before his own. Fíli _almost_ pouted. Almost. But they just grinned at each other in understanding.

They were family now, through and through.

* * *

If you've ever been to the Shire, you would know of their quaint houses dug inside hills. Holes in the ground, but not filthy, and not dark and damp, but bright, homely and unique. One such hole in particular, with its green door, stands at the top of a lush green hill and bears the name of 'Bag-End'. And if you were to ask the Hobbits about the owner, they would inform you that it used to belong to a Master Bilbo Baggins, a formerly respectable Hobbit once of good family who followed a group of rowdy Dwarves on an _adventure_. (Dreadful, nasty business.) Upon request, they would happily tell you _tales_ about it. These tales ( _gossips_ ) equally grant him either a happy ending or an untimely demise in tragically heroic circumstances, depending on the weather and the daily moods.

In reality, the hobbit in question merely hasn't had an opportunity to correct his former kinsmen yet, for he already had enough to contend with trying to keep his dwarvish friends and their own love of rumors in line.

For in truth, by many accounts a formerly respectable Hobbit he may have been, but he was also (and mostly) one who ran off with a Dwarf to become Consort Under the Mountain.

_That_ was the real adventure.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you've had a good time reading this - I know I had a blast writing it and my mind regularly thinks back on it and about writing a sequel... :)


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